Thaw
by yumi michiyo
Summary: His initial plans thwarted, a conflicted Hans wonders if he's made the right choices. And it so happens that Elsa's thinking about the exact same thing.
1. Aftermath

**Author's Note: **I like Hans (even though he is a whole can of crazy). I like Elsa. I sat down to write out some feels and this happened. I regret nothing. I swear I'm more eloquent in my writing and in real life.

* * *

Flung inside unceremoniously, Hans pulled himself upright in his cramped cell and pulled the bucket off his head. He glared at the people outside, infuriated by their raucous laughter.

They could laugh all they wanted; they would not get the satisfaction of seeing him afraid. He stared back as defiantly as he could, daring them to find his condition any more amusing.

When they drifted in all directions to go back to their work, the prince relaxed on the wooden bench. His jaw still throbbed from Anna's punch. Gingerly exploring the sore area with his fingertips, he winced slightly whenever he touched a delicate spot. It would bruise, he was certain. It was lucky she hadn't given him a bloody lip while she was at it.

Hans slowly straightened up. Back straight, head held high, he patiently waited for the ship to set sail.

Outwardly calm, the disgraced prince's mind was a whirl of activity, feverishly running through his situation and the woefully few outcomes in store.

And hence, the prince was extremely surprised for the cell door to be unlocked and a man beckon for him to come out, a sword in his hand. He was easily a head taller and almost as wide.

"You. Come with me."

Hans obeyed. He didn't really have other options.

As he walked out, his eyes flicked left and right, assessing this development and trying to make sense of what was going on. The crew members of the ship watched him go with angry expressions; Hans guessed that he was being taken away without their approval.

The visiting dignitary who had volunteered to ship him home – Hans had forgotten his name – was standing at the bottom of the gangplank, his face fairly alight with malicious glee.

He wondered if he was going from the frying pan into the fire.

A prickle of fear sprang up when he was ushered towards the castle; Hans was forced through the back door.

"Don't try anything funny," rasped the man behind him.

"Oh, please," answered Hans. "If I so much as sneezed, you'd stab me with that pointy sword of yours. Speaking of which, are you even sure which end's the pointy end?"

The man growled but said nothing else.

The disgraced prince's smile turned into a smirk. "Besides, I want to see what your mistress has in store for me."

Surprise flashed in his captor's eyes and Hans' smirk widened.

He knew the darker ways of royalty well; the kind they kept hidden from their adoring subjects. The dirty work that went on unnoticed under their very noses.

_Pah. They were all sheep anyway_. That what monarchs were for; to shepherd the flock so they wouldn't have to think for themselves.

And part of shepherding was protecting the sheep from the wolves.

Hans hadn't been expecting little Anna to have the guts for this – or it was more likely that Elsa was taking care of loose ends. He snuck a glance at the burly man behind him. _Probably an executioner_. After sentence had been passed (settling grudges with him once and for all), he'd bury the sword in his belly (pointy end first) and his corpse would end up floating in the fjord.

A tragic end for the young visiting prince, who had so nobly stepped up to guide Arendelle through the Eternal Winter. He had probably been killed by some villain. Oh, the queen would express her concerns, offer her condolences to the Southern Isles, and order the persons responsible be brought to justice.

Hans wrinkled his nose at the unpleasantness of the sequence of events.

The burly man seized Hans' upper arm and dragged him through the hallways. The prince noted that the entire time he had been freed from his cell, the man had not bothered to restrain him in any way.

They arrived at a very familiar pair of carved doors. "In here," growled his captor, pushing Hans through the doors and slamming them shut behind him.

A familiar figure awaited him at the dais. Without a trace of fear, he approached.

Hans dropped into a mock bow. "Queen Elsa."

She approached him regally, her beautiful face twisted in hatred.

"You scum," said Elsa slowly, "Anna may have been kind enough to let you get off scot-free, but you'll find that I am not as forgiving."

He raised an eyebrow. "Scot-free? My lady, the princess broke off our engagement with a punch to my jaw. Although I must say, she has a good arm."

"Silence!" she snapped, trying and failing to keep her composure. "Your _engagement_ was merely a ploy to take my throne – Anna told me everything."

"Then she must have told you that I haven't actually harmed her, am I correct?" His eyes met her gaze and held it. "I have done nothing to hurt Anna. I watched over Arendelle while you ran off into the mountains and she went to find you. I saved you from the men who tried to kill you."

It was a suicidal tack he was pursuing, and Hans felt a twinge of terror as frost crept up the sides of the walls. Much to his surprise, she didn't take the bait.

"You twist my words. You took my sister into false confidence and left her to die, or so you believed. You planned to take Arendelle's throne through either her or me. You told me I killed her – " her voice shook momentarily – "and you tried to kill me."

The prince saw no need to reply.

Elsa's stare turned deadly cold. "Your brothers don't care whether you live or die, am I right? If we were simply to ship you back home, they probably wouldn't even bother with punishing you." She leaned in; Hans felt the searing cold begin to bite into his limbs. "Arendelle could demand to have you jailed; I wonder if they'd remember to feed you?"

"So what do you intend to do with me, _Your Majesty_?" he shot back.

"You will pay for your crimes." The temperature dropped noticeably in the throne room. "You will live out the rest of your miserable life in prison here. In the very same cell you locked me in."

The prince scowled. "How merciful, Your Highness," he spat. "At least you won't forget I'm there, won't you?"

"In place of sending you back to the Southern Isles, I have requested Lord Elgin deliver a letter instead, explaining what you have done here and your punishment." She turned on her heel and walked back towards the dais. "What, do you think, are the chances they will even write back, let alone demand I release you?"

Hans' mouth went dry.

"This conversation is over." From the top of the steps, she glanced backwards. "Sieg!"

The burly man from earlier appeared.

"Take him away."

"Yes, my queen."

Too shaken to resist, the prince allowed himself to be led away.

* * *

The great doors swung shut and Elsa let out a deep sigh of relief.

It had been her first sentencing as a monarch. _At least I didn't freeze him._

She waved her hand and thawed the ice that frosted the sides of the room, making a silent note to keep better control of her emotions the next time.

Then again, it had been the man who had broke her little sister's heart.

"Prison is too good for him," she said aloud, and instantly regretted it.

Could she really bring herself to sentence someone to death? Arendelle had always been a small but peaceful kingdom for years; criminals were far and few in between. Elsa was always aware that being queen had its good and bad sides – as well as the ugly.

She had spent those lonely years in her room studying and reading, devouring the castle library's books. Her life had been one of intense preparation to ready her for the burden of queenship – and of controlling her powers.

There was always the risk, of course, of keeping separate her identities as Queen of Arendelle and the Snow Queen.

But she knew her duty to her people and her kingdom.

Elsa had very nearly failed. On that snowy mountain, in the ruins of her beautiful ice palace, she had been the icy and terrible Snow Queen who had nearly killed two men.

She shivered. She had been so close to losing herself and throwing away everything she had fought to protect her whole life.

_He_ had saved her. The young queen scowled.

As much as it galled her to think of it – this man who had trampled on her sister's heart on his way up to her kingdom – Hans had stopped her from losing herself completely.

And afterwards she had woken up in the castle dungeon; confused, afraid, her hands shackled. They had brought her back, even bothered to drape a blanket over her.

Elsa's jaw firmed. He was a snake, a monster. He only acted in his best interests.

Surely he had his reasons for bringing her back? Hidden motives, no doubt.

Belatedly, she realized she had been so focused on keeping her anger in check, she had forgotten to ask him why.

* * *

"Make yourself comfortable," growled Sieg with just a touch of vicious delight, pushing Hans into the cell and slamming the door shut.

"Why can't people just let me walk in for once?" muttered Hans as he picked himself off the ground.

Hands on his hips, he surveyed his new lodgings. The high-ceilinged construction made the place drafty; a wooden bench with pillow and blanket completed the room. The barred window showed him a magnificent view of the fjord, now thawed, ships bobbing gently in the swell.

He grunted and stared down at the familiar bed.

* * *

_Hans waited for the ice to settle before letting his hands drop. "Queen Elsa!"_

_Silence answered him. When the mist cleared, he saw her lying still, surrounded by ice fragments; one of the guards at his side took a step forward._

"_No! Don't touch her!"_

_Gingerly, he crept forward, careful not to slip. Dropping to his knees beside her, he pulled off a glove and fumbled at her wrist for a pulse._

_The thin thread beat steadily under his fingertips. The prince let out a sigh of relief._

"_She's alright. Just knocked out."_

_He pointed at the balcony. "Help him." The free soldier nodded curtly and rushed to hack away at the ice that still threatened to push him off the cliff. Behind him, his companion rubbed his neck after being freed from Elsa's ice prison. _

_Hans gently touched Elsa's arm. "Your Majesty?"_

_Her head lolled, eyes closed. Elsa moaned softly but didn't wake. _

_He slowly gathered her into his arms and stood up, cradling her head protectively against his chest. "We will take the Queen back home to Arendelle," he announced, beginning the walk out of the fractured ice palace. "Princess Anna is not here, but we will take care of her Majesty first."_

"_Yes, your highness."_

_The long ride back down the North Mountain was quiet. Hans rode ahead, Elsa in his lap, ignoring the mutters from the men behind._

_The winter storm seemed to have subsided a bit, now that she was unconscious. The prince looked down at the woman in his lap. She looked much younger than her twenty-one years; so much more – _vulnerable_._

_He tightened his grip around her shoulders and urged his horse out of a snowdrift._

_Back at the castle, there were more angry mutterings when he tried to bring her back to her room. _

"_She tried to kill me!" insisted the Duke of Weselton, pulling himself up to his fullest height. "She's a monster!"_

_Hans fought back the pricklings of a headache to come. "My lord Duke," he said as patiently as he could manage, "Queen Elsa is the crowned Queen of Arendelle, you cannot possibly confine her in her own dungeon like a common criminal. She was scared and confused, and she certainly didn't mean to hurt anyone." _

_Glancing down at Elsa, he added swiftly, "and she is no more a monster than you or I."_

_In the end, just to placate the whining Duke (who was beginning to attract unwelcome attention), he reluctantly agreed to have her confined in the castle dungeon. Hans was glad to note that the soldiers accompanied him unwillingly._

_Hans had only been a little disturbed when the castle servants quietly suggested a specific cell in which to put their queen. Set apart from the others, it was solidly framed with thick wooden beams._

_A pair of shackles he had never seen elsewhere before lay in the centre of the room._

_It had taken him a minute to put two and two together – and he felt a pang of sympathy for the young woman in his arms._

_Her powers were potentially a danger to the people around her; the people she loved. He had seen it for himself that disastrous night. Obviously, she had been shut away until she could control them – or otherwise._

_He laid her down gently on the wooden pallet; touching the rough blanket, he wondered if it was even necessary for him to cover her – did ice queens feel the cold?_

_She stirred in her sleep, brows knitting; instinct took over and he spread the woven wool over her._

_As he rose to leave, his eye caught the shackles and his lip curled in disgust. _

_But Hans hesitated. _Surely it was better for everyone if she was restrained_. The young prince stooped to pick up the shackles. The tiny keyhole on the side suggested that the key for it was the equally tiny silver key on the bunch the guards had given him._

_He unlocked the shackle, noting how smooth the key turned, and weighed it in his hand._

_The prince was no expert in metalwork but he could appreciate the care taken in the chains. It was obviously a last, desperate resort by worried parents trying to protect their daughter from herself – and the people around her. As a disturbing touch, the silver key had a diamond snowflake inset. What kind of parent could think of these things – and know they might have to stoop to this one day?_

The kind that actually care about their children_, said a nasty voice in his head. A muscle worked in his jaw as he briefly recalled his own childhood._

_Hans gently pulled back the blanket and took Elsa's hands in his. Quickly, before he could regret his decision, he fixed the shackles on and locked them._

_He didn't fail to notice how perfectly the cuffs fitted her slim wrists._

This was stupid_, reflected Hans as he left the cell. _This entire venture was stupid_. The Duke's men's involvement was fully expected (he had recognized the Duke as a kindred plotting soul), and they had served their intended purpose well; there was all the opportunity he needed to finish Elsa and avoid doing the dirty work himself. After she was gone, taking care of Anna would be a trifle._

_But he hadn't. He had saved her._

* * *

"Stupid!" muttered Hans furiously, beating his fists against the stone. "You were so close!"

So close to the throne. The fight left him all at once; the disgraced prince slid bonelessly to the floor. Years of surviving, plotting, deceiving – all thrown away because he had felt pity.

And Hans knew pity was not something he could afford.


	2. Snowmelt

Elsa settled in the parlour, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She smiled, inhaling the delicate aroma; her favourite Darjeeling tea, imported from the Far East at ridiculously expensive prices –

"Boo!" screeched Anna, jumping out from behind the curtains. Or more accurately, she tried to jump out, but caught her foot in the velvet plush and half-stumbled, half-rolled out from behind the curtains.

Elsa shrieked, freezing her tea solid and dropping the porcelain cup onto the now-icy floor, where it shattered.

"Oops – sorry…"

The queen took a few deep breaths. "Anna…"

"I'm so sorry!" squeaked the princess, trying and failing to untangle her foot discreetly.

Her older sister sighed, waving a hand and depositing the frozen tea into another cup, where it melted back into cold tea. Elsa stared in dismay at the ruined drink. "Really, don't you think you're a little old for childish pranks?"

"I don't? I mean, I've never really thought about it..." volunteered Anna. "Uhm, I meant no – wait, was was the question again?"

Elsa felt her annoyance ebbing away rapidly as she stared at her sister. She chalked it up to the long period of separation, but she just couldn't stay angry at her. Somehow, she felt as though the time they now spent together was temporary, and one day they'd go back to the way they'd been before...

The older girl smiled. "Do you think I'm not above playing pranks on my baby sister?"

"N – wait, what?"

"Boo!" yelled Elsa, flinging her arms out.

"Yeeek!" Anna jumped back in shock, slipping on the icy floor – and landing on a snowdrift Elsa had conjured. Powdered snow coated her hair, clothes, and the utterly bewildered expression she wore.

"Payback time," announced her older sister, wearing an irritatingly smug expression, fighting to not burst into laughter from Anna's face. Anna opened her mouth to say something and was promptly lost in another shower of snow.

"No fair, using powers!" she spluttered.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of the phrase, 'revenge is a dish best served cold'?" teased Elsa, conjuring a sizeable chunk of snow between her hands.

Anna took one look and decided retreat was her best option.

"Elsa, you big bully!" she giggled madly, dashing down the corridor, the older girl in hot pursuit.

Elsa flung a small snowball at her, which hit the back of her head with a 'piff'. "Well, you started it! You were the one who said I was beautifuller, remember?"

"Are you still sore about that one?" wheezed Anna, now thoroughly winded from the chase and from laughing nonstop, collapsing on the floor of the throne room in a giggly heap.

"Of course! You're the one who eats chocolates like nobody's business and still stays so skinny!" Elsa jabbed at her little sister's sides and she promptly doubled up, squirming. "Look at those ribs!"

"El – saaa! Don't – make me – laugh – _anymore_ – " Anna gasped, flailing helplessly. "Okay – you – win!"

Elsa flopped over Anna, mostly breathless herself. "At last."

There was a comfortable silence as snowflakes drifted lazily from the ceiling on the two sisters.

"Elsa?"

"Yes, Anna?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

Hans felt as though he was beginning to lose his mind. Isolation didn't suit him; the silence only served to encourage his inner demons' noise.

Left alone, he felt compelled to face his actions and their consequences.

"Happy now, Elsa?" he grumbled.

_It just wasn't fair_, he thought furiously. _Why couldn't I have won?_

* * *

There was something to be said about the tenacity of someone who had grown up as the youngest of thirteen rambunctious boys. A normal family would have simply let others raise their children; Hans' status as a prince sealed his fate.

His mother, frail from so many births (three boys were more than enough for anyone), kept mostly to her rooms. His other brothers, sons of different mothers, were either busy, uncaring, or simply not bothered with the latest runt of the family.

Hans' first memory had been of the matronly servant who had looked after him in his infancy. _Raised _would have been a better word to anyone else, but she had merely provided him with the essentials for survival.

It was a bleak childhood he had experienced.

Another memory that stood out was when three of his brothers (two half and one full) decided to ignore his existence. It had made for awkward situations when palace servants were not allowed to even acknowledge his petulant, little-boy orders.

"Did you hear a rat squeaking, brother?" sneered Anselm, the ninth prince. Large and stocky; his punches hurt the most.

Rail-thin Farmund, the eighth prince, stared down his long nose at Hans. "Rats? In the palace? Surely you jest, Anselm." Farmund was the one who enjoyed playing pranks. He had once set fire to Hans' bed while he was in it, claiming it would match his hair.

And Haakon, pale freckled Haakon; the twelfth prince who looked just like his youngest brother. His green eyes slid away from Hans' pleading ones, walking away in swift strides. "It must be rats. Only rats can scurry around where they're not wanted," he said, pulling gloves over his hands, trying his best to emulate his older brothers.

Hans turned and fled the room, not caring where he was going, only focusing on running away from the laughter that followed him relentlessly.

He soon found himself in another part of the palace he was not familiar with. While he was trying to retrace his steps back to his own room, he bumped into a solid pair of legs.

"Oh," rumbled the voice above him. "Who is that – hmm. Hilde's youngest boy… what was your name again?"

Much to his credit, he recovered quickly enough to bow. "Hans, Your Majesty."

"Hans. Yes. I knew it was a good idea to give the boys names with their mother's initial." King Magnus boomed with laughter, one meaty hand giving Hans a few rough pats on the head.

"Why are you here, Hans? Normally the boys don't come to this wing."

"I was looking for the kitchens and got lost, sir." The lies flowed off his tongue smoothly.

Magnus knelt, his piercing blue eyes taking in the small boy's tear-stained face and petulantly-jutting lower lip.

"The other boys ill-treat you?" he asked abruptly.

Hans stiffened. "N – no, sir!"

His eye fell on the small wrist. "Then these?" The king pushed up the boy's sleeve to reveal vivid purple bruises. Hans blushed.

"I – fell, sir. While running through the corridors."

"Liar," chuckled his father. "But I would've said the same myself. You're a good boy."

Hans was still red, but he could have sworn he flushed deeper with pleasure.

"Let me tell you a secret, son." Magnus leaned in, his face deadly serious. "I know it's not easy, being the youngest of so many boys, and royal princes to boot. But strength is not everything." He tapped the side of his head meaningfully. "It's _this_ that matters. I had seven older brothers myself, Hans; your uncles if they still lived. But I became king. Do you know why?"

"No, sir," breathed Hans, enthralled.

"I outsmarted them all. They underestimated me, the youngest and smallest one, until it was too late." The king rose to his full height. "I suppose you'll be the youngest, Hans; Hilde doesn't look long for this world if you ask me."

"Sir?"

Magnus shook his head. "Never mind that. Find your strengths, my son, and use them well."

Hans lifted his head proudly. "I will, Your Majesty."

"Good." He ruffled the smallest prince's hair.

* * *

And so Hans grew stronger. He no longer cared if they beat him, or stole his toys, or humiliated him in front of others.

His father had spoken to him and given him advice. His father, the youngest of his brothers, had become king against all the odds.

Unfortunately, he faced another setback.

Compared to his brothers, Hans was not skilled in warfare; not as a tactician or a warrior. He wasn't even a particularly inspiring leader. He also lacked the charisma to win people's hearts and inflame their spirits.

The prince was also not a born scholar, writing texts to baffle academicians. He wasn't even a good cook.

He was beginning to fall back into despair.

* * *

It wasn't until his eighteenth birthday, when he was deemed old enough to be sent abroad as a representative of the Southern Isles, when he discovered his strengths.

As the youngest in a palace filled with boys and men, Hans was utterly bewildered by women; young giggly girls who breathlessly clung to his arm, dignified women who exchanged small talk and gossip, matrons who fawned over him in a cloying manner that suggested they were too old to feel shame.

He was incredibly charming to women – no, _irresistible_.

After years of struggling with everything else, he was alarmed by how easy it was to impress them; a witty remark here, a compliment there, and they were practically eating out of his hand.

Most importantly, Hans realized that they were mostly lonely. The life of a noble was an isolated one, and many giddy young ladies were just looking for a listening ear and a friendly face.

His good looks and charm were just a bonus.

A dalliance with young Charlotte LaBouf (an incredibly wealthy young heiress but no princess, alas) gave Hans the idea on how to use his strengths; the girl was on a single-minded mission to be a princess by marrying a prince.

No one said he had to be King of the Southern Isles.

Why not simply marry into the throne of another kingdom?

Other men had done precisely that. He'd read tales of common thieves becoming princes simply by marrying princesses. Princes and princesses eventually become kings and queens, after all.

Of course, there was this whole issue of True Love but Hans supposed it would come when it did.

Or he could just fake it.

* * *

Hans felt like he had been plunged back into the abyss of his childhood, starting from the very bottom again.

And this time, there didn't seem to be any possible way up.

"So it's my fault, then?" he said to the stone slab on the floor where the shackles had been. "For what, having my plans fall through or even making them in the first place?"

* * *

Sieg opened the cell door, bearing a plate of food and a jug of water. "Eat."

"Not interested," said Hans dully.

The burly man stared at his prisoner in disbelief. "You need to." Setting the food and drink down, he shut the door again.

Hans spared it a glance, rolled over, and resumed staring at the wall.

* * *

"Stupid gloves," grouched Hans, picking at the loose threads on the hem. "My best pair and they're in terrible condition." Out of all the items he owned, the prince's favourite was this pair of gloves.

"Hmm?" He glanced up at the stone slab. "Why?"

"Oh, they were a gift from a German countess as a souvenir from this – shall we say, memorable? – summer we spent together in Europe." Hans stuffed them roughly back into his pocket. "I like them because the quality and stitching are extremely fine. You find gloves like these don't come cheap."

He snorted. "Sentimental value? That's for lesser people."

* * *

"Do you want to – "

" – send my little sister out of the room, because she's being an annoying brat? I would love to," said Elsa without even looking up from her book.

Anna pouted and draped herself dramatically over the couch's arm rest, sliding beside her older sister. "You're no fun."

"No, I'm Elsa."

Kristoff stifled a laugh as Anna shot him a pointed glare.

"I'm Olaf," smiled the snowman, not fully understanding what was going on, but joining in anyway.

"You have to admit that was a good one, Anna," remarked Kristoff, leaning back in his chair.

"No, it isn't," grumbled the princess. "And stop being on her side. You're supposed to be on _my _side."

"Actually, you're on her side now…"

"Kristoff!"

Elsa attempted to hide her laughter as they bickered. She had the unfortunate tendency to snort whenever she laughed (something only her sister knew, and she had been sworn to secrecy) and was valiantly trying to preserve her image in front of the ice harvester.

Although she supposed he would be family one day too.

Anna flung her hands in the air in frustration, barely missing Elsa's face. "Urgh! I can't stand you!" She narrowed her eyes at them both, and hastily added, "And I know I'm not standing, I'm lying down! Ha!"

Her last word was punctuated by a discreet knock on the door. "Enter," called Elsa, shutting her book and sitting up straight.

Sieg entered. "Your Majesty. Could you come with me for a moment?" Her questioning gaze met his eyes, and he nodded imperceptibly.

Elsa sobered immediately. Sensing a change in her sister's demeanour, Anna sat up as well.

"Elsa?"

The queen smiled and shook her head. "It's nothing, just state business. I'll be back in a short while."

* * *

She swept down to the dungeons as she was, clad simply in her ice-blue dress. He didn't even bother to look up.

"Good day, Your Majesty," he croaked, and was cut off by racking coughs shaking his entire body.

"Sieg told me you refused food and drink for the past few days – and as a result, you fell sick," she said, voice tight with anger. "What did you think you were doing?"

"You shouldn't waste food on me," he slurred. "Nobody's gonna care anyway. It's been two weeks. My brothers didn't even reply your letter, right?"

"N – no," she stammered, quite taken aback by the open bitterness in his voice. "That's not the point – "

"It isn't." He managed to pull himself up on his elbows, staring at her with fixed, bloodshot eyes; his face was flushed with fever. "This situation is actually rather ideal for you, isn't it? I die here of illness, and you won't be blamed for killing me."

Elsa stared blankly at him for a moment. She wasn't entirely sure what was the proper thing to be done in situations like this.

"Thanks for the last visit," he interjected roughly. She blanched.

"No!" Elsa shouted. "You will not die here, Hans. I can't let you do this."

His lip curled. "To myself, or to you?"

Taking a deep breath, her face dark with emotion, she took a step closer. "Someone stopped me when I was on the brink of becoming a monster," said the queen in a quiet voice. "I owe him my life, and at the very least, my gratitude."

Fever-bright eyes flashed with recollection.

Elsa knelt so her face was level with his. "I don't know what you had planned for me," she hissed, "but I can give you that one thing. Think of it as my mercy or my punishment, but your life is mine; you don't decide whether you want it or not."

A cool hand rested on his forehead.

"Sleep now." The coolness began to spread over his body, soothing the heat and lulling him to sleep.

Elsa watched as the prince's eyes fluttered shut. Asleep, he looked less cunning and manipulative than she knew he was capable of.

"Inform me when he wakes," she instructed Sieg as she left the cell.

* * *

Hans snapped awake with a start. The pounding headache was gone and he sighed in relief. A water jug sat near his bed; he downed the water in a few gulps.

The cell door creaked open. "Here," said Sieg, handing him a steaming bowl of soup.

"Soup?" He sniffed it, savouring the aroma. "Prisoners' fare has certainly improved."

"Queen's orders."

"I must remember to thank her later," sneered Hans, just to irritate Sieg. But instead of the growl he was expecting, the big man shot him a penetrating look.

"For other things as well, yes."

* * *

Elsa was in her study (thankfully, Kristoff had taken Anna out on some deliveries) enjoying some tea.

Sieg appeared in the door. "My Queen..."

She rose to her feet, heart in her throat. "I see." Her Darjeeling was set aside to be forgotten for the second time.

All the way downstairs, her mind whirled with activity. Even now, she wondered if she had done the right thing in saving him – God knew, he didn't deserve it. Everything she held dear argued against it.

As she came face-to-face with the gaunt, worn-looking prince, Elsa dismissed those thoughts.

"What did you mean – when you said that earlier?" he asked. "I thought I was delirious, but…"

She half-smiled. "I admit it is a bit foolish of me to attach sentimental value to something like that. But – to be completely honest – it was what I needed to bring me back." The queen's eyes darkened. "Even if it's likely you didn't mean it at all."

"Possibly," he agreed genially. Elsa shot him a wary look but continued anyway.

"I was this close to killing that man and becoming that monster they wanted me to be. The monster that I had thought I was." Elsa's fingers fidgeted in the fabric of her dress. "Though I can't think of a reason why you would say that when you had nothing to gain."

His mouth quirked into a twisted smile. "Don't ask me. It would have suited my purposes perfectly if you were to die there, a murderous monster killed by her angry people."

"Then why did you save me?"

"Honestly? I have no idea, Elsa." _None whatsoever._

Elsa frowned.


	3. First Blood

In retrospect, Hans was glad that she had said nothing; she had just pursed her lips and left his cell.

He felt distinctly unsettled after that particular side of Elsa had bared its fangs. Like it or not, she was right and his life was at her mercy. He was hard-pressed to challenge her reasoning.

_Back to being a toy at the end of a cat's paw. _

Suddenly angry, the disgraced prince aimed a vicious kick at the water pitcher beside his pallet, missed and caught the stone wall.

Hans cursed.

* * *

Alone in her study, Elsa tried to sift through the pile of books Kai had obligingly fetched from the library. Anna, thankfully, was out with Kristoff; Elsa made a mental note to talk to him about her ice in return for taking her sister off her hands.

She loved Anna dearly, of course, but she needed to be alone for this.

While being secluded in her room (Anna called it locking herself away), Elsa had enjoyed the books her mother brought her. The confines of her room vanished like mist when she opened the tomes; Elsa rode on a magic carpet through the velvet nights, explored the mysterious tropical jungles, and dove into the uncharted deep seas.

Reading brought her the solace of a world in which she could be free.

Which was why she was completely bewildered by people; they were completely contradictory, wayward, subversive things unlike the solid, dependable heroes of her books.

Hans, especially, embodied everything that was dark and hateful, packaged as the Good Prince.

He was a puzzle that her sensibilities were offended by, and her intellect wanted to solve.

And so she had requested Kai place an order with far-off German universities, requesting books on human thought. Works of philosophy, great novels, critical discursive; these weighty tomes were now stacked on her desk.

There was a wealth of knowledge to be obtained from books, and Elsa felt self-conscious and nervous when faced with a situation where that knowledge was found lacking.

In times of trouble, she reverted to form and returned to books.

Elsa suddenly thought about how Anna would react to them – she would probably use them as a footrest. She giggled.

Cheered by the thought, Elsa slid the first book from the pile and cracked it open. She would start with Kant's _Critique of Pure Reason_. She had heard her tutors talking about this book and the stir it had created in academic circles when it was first published.

* * *

Kant, she decided vengefully, could take his critique and stick it wherever he pleased. Hopefully somewhere she felt was too undignified to even think about.

After half an hour of poring over the first page and not understanding a single thing, she closed the book with a thump and decided to try another.

* * *

_Why can't these philosophers write in plain, readable text?_

* * *

Elsa, her head spinning with ideas and thoughts and _good Lord why can't he write in clear prose_, decided to call it a day. She summoned Gerda and requested tea be served.

"Is there any more Darjeeling left?" asked the young queen, trying her best to sound regal and composed even though she was sure her hair was a mess from running her fingers through it in her frustration.

Gerda bobbed a quick curtsey. "Yes, Your Majesty. There is enough for a pot. The trader left word he would be back before the solstice."

"That would be… a month from now." Elsa exhaled. "Very well. Prepare the last of the leaves and bring some desserts to go with that, please."

* * *

Hans was having a much less enjoyable time in his cell. In fact, he was bored enough to talk to the stone slab in the centre of his lodgings again.

"So what's your story?" he asked. "You were built for the dear queen?"

_Yes. To house the shackles designed her ice powers._

"Fascinating. Some of the servants told me about you."

_The King her father had the shackles made by a master craftsman in one of the Germanic states to the south. Me, I am common stone. The same as the ones in this cell._

"That's pretty messed up. The shackles, I mean. What kind of a father does that?"

_His Majesty was at his wit's end._ The powers are growing stronger, _he said._ She is so scared, she cannot control them, _he said._

"Funnily enough, it does sound like he really cared. My old man did – maybe. I suppose so. But it's hard when you have an army of older brothers standing in your way."

_There were many options and His Majesty chose the safest. The one that would save her._

"See, now that's a debatable statement right there. You see, I – "

The cell door creaked. "Sounds like you're having fun," said Elsa, quirking an elegant eyebrow.

Hans regarded her dully. "Oh. It's you."

"Me, unfortunately."

Sulkily, he moved to the far end of the pallet to let her sit.

"You're too kind."

"An astute observation."

Instead of getting bothered (and the temperature dropping significantly), she merely smiled.

They passed long, sticky moments in silence.

"… So?" asked Hans.

"So."

"I'm pretty sure this isn't a courtesy call."

"What makes you say that?"

He gestured carelessly at their surroundings. "I'm a prisoner. You're my captor. Unless you've come to taunt me or something, which is something I'm sure other captors do."

"No."

He felt a headache building. "Then why even come?"

"I came because I'm confused." She pulled out a piece of paper. "Kant – and this was after I spent ages trying to read through one chapter – said that morality is based on reason."

"Kant is notoriously obtuse," he commented dryly.

"Yes, I – wait. You've read Kant?"

"I tried but I Kant," Hans deadpanned.

Shocked silence hung in the room.

Elsa rounded on him. "Okay, that just sounded like the kind of bad joke Anna would've made."

He shrugged helplessly.

She fought the urge to slap him silly. "No. Don't you dare get distracted. We're talking about philosophy. Morality based on reason."

"Yes, Kant. Why do you bring this up?"

"There is a particular reason for your behaviour, Hans, and I don't intend to release you until I've found out what it is." At this juncture, her face was dangerously close to his, frost beginning to spider over the stone walls.

He rolled his eyes, trying his best to not let his discomfort show. "With all due respect, Queen Elsa, you could just talk to me instead of trying to stagger through notoriously difficult works of philosophy, which I'm very much convinced is the convoluted rambling of men with nothing better to do."

She stared back in baffled silence.

Hans went for the kill.

"Unless, of course, human interaction is something you don't handle well, having spent most of your life locked up in that room of yours like Anna said…"

Elsa's head jerked back as though she had been slapped. He had touched a nerve, he was pleased to note.

"My parents did what they had to do," she hissed. "They didn't have a choice – "

" – and so they locked you away and pretended there was nothing wrong with you. That you needed to be hidden from everything. Like some kind of monster."

"I couldn't control my powers!"

Hans could see his breath coming in misty clouds now, swirling in the air between them.

"I could have killed someone. I hurt Anna."

"Are you even listening to yourself now? You're pathetic." He stepped back, tucking his hands under his armpits to warm them. "For someone who's full of gratitude for being stopped from becoming a monster, you sound like one."

"Shut up!"

There was wind in the cramped cell, he realized belatedly, and it was beginning to pick up. Elsa's hair swirled around her face, her eyes dark with anger and fear and uncertainty –

She took a step back – or rather stumbled – against the wooden door. Drawing a shaky breath, her gaze met his for an instant, and then –

– Elsa grasped for the handle, pulled the door open, and vanished.

Hans let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and sat down hard on his bed.

* * *

Back in the safety of her room, Elsa sat against her door, clutching her legs to her chest; a comfortingly familiar pose from childhood. Her forehead rested against the cool material covering her knees.

_You let him get to you._

She should have known better. He was a master manipulator. He could and would say anything to give himself the advantage over others.

Anna – bless her – was too trusting and vulnerable for her own good, but she was the older sibling and crowned Queen.

But he had talked about her parents.

He had forced her to confront the little things she had managed to overlook over the years, that the little voice that called her a monster had also whispered to her in the dark lonely nights.

Just how far had her parents been willing to go to protect her from herself?

She hadn't had the time to think about the shackles at all since those events; Anna and queenship and _Anna _had been occupying her thoughts and filling her once-lonely days.

They had resisted her powers so well, it hadn't been until she was _alone _and _desperate_ and _afraid for Anna _that she was able to break the shackles.

_What was Hans trying to imply?_

Or maybe she already knew the answer.

And was afraid to admit it to herself.

Even as she strode down the corridors back to that cell, she knew she was making a mistake.

* * *

Raw as she was right now, Elsa was in no condition to face him again.

_But hey, since I'm in the habit of breaking down doors, what's one more time?_

Coming to a halt in front of the familiar wooden door, her hand reached out to grasp the handle – but then paused.

Elsa made a gesture and ripped the door off its hinges with a miniature blizzard.

"What the – !"

Hans leapt to his feet, eyes wide.

She swept in, a raging snowstorm contained in her slender frame, winter trailing in her wake. Her emotions manifested in the jagged icicles that accentuated her dress.

"My parents," she began, cold as ice, "did what they believed was right. I will not say they _were _right. And you have no right to talk about them as though you knew them."

"I do not know what you were planning, and I certainly do not know how you even sleep at night. But I have come too far to doubt myself, to listen to anything you have to say to me."

"Good for you, then," he said softly.

Her eyes flashed once. Turning on her heel, she left the room.

Hans didn't even spare a thought for the wrecked door and any chance of escape.

It seemed he had underestimated this young woman.


	4. Turning

**Author's Note:** This pairing is hard to write without the story turning into an over-exaggerated cliché.

* * *

The next few days passed in an exhausting haze of tedium; Elsa ratified agreements, met with her cabinet, and ruled over her people.

And mostly, she tried to ignore Hans' presence in the dungeons.

She was careful, however, not to slip into the habit of existing within her own bubble. Elsa was happy to let Anna kidnap her for spontaneous outings and activities.

But even when riding at breakneck speeds over the hills and freezing over a small pond to go ice skating, the queen's thoughts were elsewhere. Anna noticed, but said nothing.

* * *

Gradually, Elsa thought less about Hans – and more about what he had insinuated about her parents.

Before, she had feared even the thought of their actions. He had forced her to look closely past the smiling gentle faces she remembered, and she hated him for it, hated herself for thinking it –

– but she did feel freer. Almost as free as that night on the North Mountain.

* * *

The next thing on Elsa's mind was Anna.

Their rebuilt relationship was still in the honeymoon stage; they had yet to fight or disagree over anything. Elsa, having the tendency to bottle up things inside her, secretly feared the small squabble that would set them both over the edge and saying things they would regret later.

She, for one, had quite a few things at the back of her mind.

That train of thought was lost abruptly when Anna sprawled in a most undignified fashion over the ice, a sheepish-looking tangle of skates and braids.

* * *

Naturally, with all this going on in Elsa's mind, it was no small wonder she managed to go through everyday life.

The queen was so preoccupied one morning over breakfast, Anna leaned over and asked, "Is something wrong, Elsa?" and the question went unnoticed.

The princess poked her sister's arm. She nearly dropped her spoon.

"What is it, Anna?"

"Something's bothering you," declared the strawberry-blonde. "What is it?"

"No, nothing."

"Nothing's wrong?"

"Absolutely. What makes you think something's wrong?"

"For starters, I suggested that Kristoff should move into my room and you agreed. Secondly, it's snowing over you."

Elsa blinked and glanced up in the direction Anna was pointing. A small cloud, identical to the one that followed Olaf around, serenely trickled snowflakes over her head. Frowning, she dissipated it with a wave of her hand.

" – wait, what?" She put the spoon down before she could drop it again. "Kristoff in your room?!"

"It was a joke," said Anna hastily. "You looked so out of it I couldn't resist."

The queen sighed.

"Not funny."

"Well, actually…"

The queen scowled and picked up her spoon again.

Anna got up from her chair and threw her arms around Elsa's neck. "You can tell me if anything's bothering you. Not alone anymore, remember? Besides, I'm pretty good at taking care of problems. Especially things like bringing back summer, getting rid of wolves, fleeing giant unfriendly snowmen…"

Her sister laughed. "Okay, fine. Point taken, " she said, and poked Anna in the ribs. "And I believe I'm the one who thawed everything?"

"Someone had to go fetch you from the mountain first," came the reply with a sullen pout.

Elsa shifted in her seat and awkwardly returned the hug, giving herself some time to think about how to express herself – feelings were something she usually kept to herself and being as open as Anna was something she was working towards.

"I was just thinking," she mumbled into Anna's arm, "about Papa and Mama."

Her sister sobered a little. "Oh."

She paused to collect her thoughts and opened her mouth –

– Anna leaned down and enveloped her in a proper hug. "I miss them too."

_Huh?_

"I mean, they were busy with the kingdom and all but they still made time to see us. And I could go find them and give them a hug – oh, Elsa! I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No, it's fine." Elsa smiled in relief – Anna had answered herself, and it was good and well, she could take her time worrying about the best way to tell her –

"Are you worried about the kingdom?"

Here Anna hit closer to the mark; this was a small but niggling doubt lurking in the back of the queen's mind for the past few weeks since her coronation.

"A little."

"Don't worry, you can do it. I know you can do it."

"… Thanks, Anna."

The strawberry-blonde grinned. "No problem, sis. Hey, by the way, do you wanna build a snowman?"

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Anna, I think you have a problem. This compulsion with creating endless snow people. You should seek help for that…"

As she was being dragged outside, the older girl banished the last of her heavy thoughts from her mind.

* * *

While they repaired his cell's door, Hans sat on his pallet, arms folded, watching them haul in the wooden panels. Judging from the way Sieg grunted, it was heavy. Oak, he reckoned.

They hadn't insulted him by shifting him into another cell while repairs were underway, and Hans was grateful.

Oddly enough, despite the events of the past few days, the fear that gnawed at Hans was mostly gone now.

She was perfectly capable of killing him painfully and slowly. She had no qualms about doing so, unlike her innocent little sister. This fact raised his opinion of her significantly, and made him seriously consider her as a player in the game.

Being back in the 'game' soothed him and led his body believe that things were back to normal. Already he was sleeping better at night, and the incessant headaches were mostly gone.

Hans had been forced to revamp the game to suit his current situation – the main goal was no longer the throne, but his freedom.

And now he plotted. His mind worked on overdrive, analysing the situation, suggesting potential avenues, calculating outcomes. Elsa was definitely a niche he could work on.

He wasn't sure how much pushing he'd done, but she'd reacted in the worst way possible (for him) and fought back. The prince wasn't sure if there would be a next time to counterattack – or whether he even should.

* * *

"Hey," called Hans.

Sieg looked up, a malevolent look in his eye. "What?"

"Would you like a little help?" The ex-prince looked around his surroundings and gave a short laugh. "It's not like I'm busy or anything…"

The burly man put the lumber down and contemplated it for a moment. "No," he said at length, "I don't trust you. The queen said you're the tricky sort, and I wouldn't put it past you to sneak one of these tools off me and get out somehow."

"The queen tore the door out and left me in here alone. I think the possibility of my escaping is distinctly slim."

The jailor grunted.

"… I'll take that as a no, then." Hans put his feet up on the pallet, resting his hands behind his head, turning his bordeom back to the game.

* * *

Over a mug of hot chocolate and Anna's wild stories of childhood (mostly involving mischief and scandalous deeds), Elsa's thoughts turned more positive.

The break was exactly what she needed, it seemed.

"I still have all the pictures you drew of me, in my room," said Anna with a wry grin, "even the one where you ate all my chocolate."

Elsa laughed. "That was really fun to draw."

"I'm sure."

"And the Flynn Rider one? Dangling from the window...?"

"Nooo! I was trying to forget that ever happened!"

"Tough luck. I, for one, will never forget – you crashed into my window and scared me half to death, you little brat!"

Anna scoffed. "Say what you will. Flynn had his critics, after all. I mean – "

She was cut off with a pillow to the head, and the long-ago war erupted with an outbreak of hostility.

And later that night, as Anna snored beside her (too tired to go back to her room, she had declared an impromptu sleepover and immediately fell asleep in Elsa's bed), the blonde girl decided to stop thinking about her parents.

They were in the past, and the past was something she and Anna needed to leave behind.

Feeling cheered by the simplicity of the solution, her attention wandered back to Hans.

She wondered why he was angry and bitter and dark all the time - and then the answer came in a burst of inspiration.

He was cooped up, much like a lion in a cage. Locked up, like her. Left to his own devices.

Elsa shuddered. She would never forget what it was like to be so alone, to have the hated powers literally spilling from her and she could do nothing to contain it -

Hateful as Hans was, she couldn't bear to subject him to the same thing she herself had gone through.

Bright and early the next morning, she called in her steward and asked him to fetch Sieg.

* * *

Hans stared. "Work?"

"Work," agreed Sieg. He held out a bundle of clothes in one hand, and a basin of water in the other. "Tidy yourself up. Queen's orders." On the pallet he added a towel, a razor, and some soap.

The water was still warm. He had almost forgotten how nice it felt on grimy skin, sluicing away the dirt; Hans was almost embarrassed to see how black the water became.

The clothes were simple and homespun, but they were clean, and the young man was pleased to put them on.

"Here," grunted Sieg. "Come with me."

* * *

Elsa waited in the courtyard; the fading summer had brought rare rain, and most of the ground was mud. She was glad she had worn riding clothes and boots.

"Your Majesty."

She nodded to Sieg, and then her gaze fell on Hans.

He was clean at least, looking more like the prince she had met on the coronation rather than the angry young prisoner with blazing eyes and lank hair.

His hair was longer and shaggy and she recalled it had been nearly two months since his incarceration. At the very least he had shaved off the straggly beard – the sideburns remained intact, much to her interest.

The young man wore a plain shirt and vest, a pair of loose breeches secured around his waist with a sash. Heavy workman's boots completed his outfit.

Pale from long days underground, and noticeably gaunt and thin, Hans stared defiantly back at her.

Elsa nodded. "That will do."

"For what?"

"The work I have in mind for you."

He gulped.

* * *

Hans stared in confusion at the ship. "Are you sending me back to the Southern Isles?"

Elsa spared him a smile. "Not for a while yet. For now, you will assist the harbourmaster, Lindor, in his duties." She nodded at a small, bearded man, who bowed in response. "You'll obey his orders."

The young man's lip curled. "And if not…?"

"If not, I am a far harsher master than Lindor. I can easily put you as a stable hand or as an assistant to the Royal Ice Master and Deliverer."

"That big brute?" He let more than a little dismay show through.

She didn't rise to the bait as Anna would have, instead smiling serenely at him. "Master Kristoff is a tough man. I daresay you won't last a night up in the mountains if he doesn't take the proper precautions."

Hans decided shutting up was a good thing.

Elsa turned to her harbourmaster. "Master Lindor, I leave him in your charge. Feel free to punish him for any transgressions he makes."

"Yes, my queen."

The young man attempted to catch her eye but she turned on her heel and left without looking back.

* * *

He squinted, taking in his surroundings. Summer in Arendelle was very short, and the autumn chill was already in the winds that tugged at his shirt. They threatened to tear him from the rigging if her were to let his attention slip.

There were no people of power or influence within his vicinity, nor within his connections – for the first time in his life, Hans was no longer playing the game of royal intrigue.

And so he decided to act like a commoner instead of a prince.

Charm was the first to go. There were no women in the harbour anyway; the men that worked alongside were hard, surly, violent sea dogs that fought at the drop of a hat.

They picked on him because he was the new boy; they tripped him, stole small items from him, hit him accidentally-on-purpose.

Hans bore it all with the same patience – he'd endured worse at the hands of his brothers.

His princely manners, his elegant grace, his polished speech dropped away like the autumn leaves. Hans got used to rough living and rougher speech.

His first fight was with one of the porters. Burdened with a sack of flour, he'd collided with the man and knocked him off the pier.

The soaked man attempted to beat him up, cursing luridly. Hans dropped off his load and went for his sword – belatedly realizing there was none.

It was over soon enough; the porter was taller and broader than his opponent, and a veteran of many brawls. The young man lay flat on his back, the world streaming black and noisy, and his eye was tender to the touch.

Anna, he decided, could throw a better punch.

* * *

Elsa saw the leaders of her kingdom once every week; the mayor, the captain of the guard, the head burgher, and others. Some, like her spymaster, she saw secretly.

But today, her harbourmaster was due to present his report.

"Your Majesty," said Lindor, approaching the throne and bowing deeply.

"Master Lindor."

"This week we have been blessed with mild weather, considering that autumn is nearly upon us. A merchant ship from Corona docked three days before and is due to leave tomorrow afternoon."

"Royal business?"

"Partly, Your Majesty. They hold a royal trade license from Corona, but there is a royal messenger on board. I daresay you'll be seeing him soon."

The report continued on in this dry vein for a while before Lindor paused. "He does well."

"He?" asked Elsa, knowing full well who.

"The prisoner," clarified the man. "He works well, doesn't complain, learns fast."

The expression on Elsa's face was unreadable. "Good."

* * *

Hans hadn't a single moment to himself since stepping on board the ship.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd plotted something, or even sketched out a plan for his future.

And the thought of the throne – and even his freedom – seemed laughably far away.

* * *

He idled on a barrel, practicing the knot he'd learnt the night before from a grizzled old sailor. It wasn't easy but he thought he'd nearly gotten the hang of it...

"This way, Your Majesty."

Hans' head snapped up. Walking serenely down the short pier was Elsa, wearing a simple dress. The only mark of her rank was the pendant hanging at her neck.

He scrambled to his feet just as she caught sight of him.

"Hans," she said, clearly not expecting to see him.

He bowed. "Your Majesty."

One of the men accompanying her gestured to him. "Lower the gangplank, boy."

"Sir." The young man untied the rope, a bland expression on his face.

Elsa climbed the gangplank and boarded the ship. Hans stood some way from her, watching her warily.

"You're going on a journey?" he asked. "Where's An – Princess Anna?"

She nodded tersely, and Hans realised she was terrified. "Yes. The first official meeting as monarch of Arendelle with my royal cousins, the royal family of Corona." Elsa seemed at a loss for a moment, and then added in a very small voice, "Anna won't be going."

Hans decided not to pursue the other line of questioning. "Corona?" The name sounded familiar. "Right - the lost princess, recently returned."

"My cousin, Rapunzel."

He smiled. "I didn't know you were related to Corona's royal family."

"My mother was the Queen's sister."

The smile on his face disappeared. "My apologies, your Majesty."

"Not at all." She walked to the side, her gloved hands gripping the rail tightly. "They were lost at sea a number of years ago."

It came together in a flash of understanding. But he chose not to say anything, the words of condolence dissipating on his tongue.

His next words were chosen carefully. "If there's anything I can do..." Open-ended enough, and she had the clear option of ignoring him.

She nodded absently, attention already elsewhere.

The captain called for him, and Hans left to resume his duties.

* * *

"You're a convicted prisoner – albeit one with extraordinary freedoms," said the captain gruffly. "I wouldn't want you as a sailor on my ship."

"But we're short-handed at the moment and have no choice."

Hans nodded slowly.

"Queen Elsa has given me permission to cut you down should you try anything... untoward." He fingered the hilt of his sword. "Am I clear?"

"Aye, sir."

* * *

He hated night duty. Hans pulled his jacket closer and fastened it. It was a good thing it was a short voyage - two nights at sea, and reaching Corona in the late morning - and he wouldn't be forced, yawning, into the crow's nest every night.

The deck was empty. He paused at the foot of the mast to check his supplies; taking up his lantern, Hans stepped up into the rigging and began the climb.

The Norwegian sea was clear; it wasn't the season for ice floes, making it one of the safest times of the year to set sail. A gust made the sails billow and the young man shiver. Hans pulled the collar of his jacket up.

He noticed that he wasn't alone on deck.

Towards the stern, the dim silhouette of another person was barely visible by the flickering light of his lantern and the moon overhead.

Hans decided that whoever this person was, they wanted to be left alone and he would gladly oblige.

* * *

He jerked awake, sensing that something was wrong.

The sea was choppy, the ship rocking gently with each wave. There was an ominous cloud overhead threatening to swallow the moon.

Cursing, Hans climbed down the rigging, nearly losing his grip several times as the ship lurched.

"A small squall," he overheard a man saying as he ran to his post, "but we might be caught in the tail end if we aren't lucky."

"Give her room!" bellowed the midshipman's voice. "We'll ride the winds out of here!" Rope was tossed into the young man's hands and he tugged. The reserve sail unfurled and immediately caught. Hans grunted with pain as the rope jerked some skin off his palms.

"Steady!"

The ship rolled. The light dimmed, filling the air with low rumbling.

"Here she comes!"

"Hold on!"

"Your Majesty, quickly!"

Hans whirled around. Elsa was still onboard, her retinue hastily leading her below deck. Her face was almost as white as her hair.

A guard opened the hatch and reached for her hand. "Queen Elsa - "

With an almighty jolt, the ship bucked and everything went spinning. Hans' free hand shot out and seized the rigging. His shoulder wrenched hard; he bit back a snarl of pain.

Men sprawled on the deck at awkward angles. Rain started to fall, pattering on the wooden planks and soaking their clothes.

"Your Majesty!"

Elsa clung to the mainmast, her mouth a grim slash of determination. The occasional crack of lightning illuminated her face and gave her the look of an ancient valkyrie.

Around her, her men clung to whatever was tied down.

"Hold on!" thundered a voice Hans recognized as the captain's. "We'll be through this in a short while!"

Crackling diverted Hans' attention; his sodden clothes were beginning to freeze. Cries of alarm sounded around him.

_Oh no._

"Queen Elsa!" he roared, trying to make himself heard over the noise. "Elsa!"

She was facing away from him; she gave no sign she had heard. Men yelled in fear as icicles began to grow over the deck and rigging.

Hans gritted his teeth. Crouching low, he dashed through the perilous landscape, sliding along the ice and breaking any icicles in his way with his boots.

He reached the mainmast just in time to cling tightly to the roping and steady himself as the vessel lurched.

"Elsa!"

Her eyes stared back, unfocused and unseeing with fear. Frost spidered over her hands where she was gripping the ropes.

He had seen that look before.

Hans darted a glance to their surroundings; the sails were frozen over. Too heavy to catch the winds, they were beginning to lose speed. He swore.

"Elsa, you have to stop this!"

"… I can't."

He seized her upper arm and cried out; bitter cold stung his skin and froze it off. Blood froze into reddish ice where he touched. Hans ground his teeth together and held on.

"Elsa," he said in the most calming voice he could muster, "can you hear me?"

Something flickered in the young woman's eyes. "... Hans?"

He smiled. "Yes, it's Hans. Elsa, it's going to be alright. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you." Around him, men shouted in panic as they tried to chip the ice off the sails. "But you need to stop this."

"You can save us. Just calm down. Everything's going to be just fine."

She drew a shuddering breath. "Anna...?" Her hands shifted from the ropes to his shirt, the frost crackling loudly as it reformed over the fabric.

"Anna's fine. It's okay, Elsa. I got you."

She closed her eyes and nodded.

The frost receded, and the sails sprang back to full billow. The rain began to ease off as they left the storm behind. The ice under her hands thawed back into water and dripped to the deck.

Hans reached for her hand and felt her grab it tightly, as though she was clinging to dear life. He squeezed her white-knuckled grip reassuringly.

"You're doing it. You did it, Elsa," he murmured, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Gradually the sea calmed down and they became more steady on their feet. Sailors slumped to the deck and gave thanks, or rested their exhausted bones.

Elsa suddenly let out a sob and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder. He didn't let go of her hand.

"It's okay," he said distractedly, rubbing comforting circles on her back.

Her retinue approached hesitantly. "Thank you," said the pompous minister from earlier, now looking exhausted. "We'll take the queen back to her quarters."

"Yes, sir."

Gently, he dislodged her grip on his soaked, frost-ruined clothes and let the man put his arm around her shoulders.

Hans watched them disappear below deck.

* * *

He had no idea how to describe what he was feeling at that moment; for once, he had comforted someone. It felt strange.

His arm ached. Glancing at it, he saw a jagged cut where an icicle had sliced it open.

Hans hadn't felt a thing.

The other sailors didn't say a word, but they helped him bind his hands and injured arm with torn sailcloth.

* * *

Elsa was awake but she didn't want to get up. She lay in bed, staring at nothing.

Her worst nightmare had nearly come true (again). She had lost control of her powers. She had very nearly killed everyone.

And Anna hadn't been around to save her this time.

She sighed, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Elsa hated being so weak - but at the same time, she accepted it as part of her monstrous self. Anna, so loving and generous and brave, could always save her and protect her from herself.

How she longed to have some of the courage her little sister possessed in abundance. All she knew was how to run away to protect the people she loved.

But now wasn't the time to indulge her self-pity. Elsa rose from the bed and got ready to be a queen again.

* * *

Hans stayed on board the ship for the duration of the royal visit, shrugging off the jovial invitations from the other sailors to visit Corona's pubs.

He'd been sorely tempted by the mention of a near-legendary establishment, the Snuggly Duckling, but turned it down in the end.

The captain, quietly relieved his charge wouldn't escape, agreed Hans would stay on board, as he was a prisoner technically.

And so he was surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He whirled around - and his eyes widened.

"Queen Elsa?"

She gave him a shy smile. "Hi."

"Uh – hi."

The queen, clad in a formal ball gown, looked tired. She had dark circles under her eyes, mostly hidden by makeup.

Her eyes fell on his bandaged arm and bound hands, and her face fell.

"You're hurt!"

"Oh," said Hans nonchalantly, feeling a little embarrassed. "It's nothing much."

She bit her lip, hugging herself in what he recognised was a nervous habit of hers. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm fine."

"But that night – " She drew a shaky breath. "I nearly lost it. Again."

"You nearly did, but you didn't, and that's what's important," said Hans firmly.

Elsa opened her mouth as though about to say something, but nothing came out.


	5. Sojourn

**Author's Notes:** Thoughts on this chapter can be found on my tumblr.

* * *

The silence that fell in between them was extremely tense, Hans felt – and what's more, it seemed that he was the one in control, not Elsa.

_Intriguing._

"How're you feeling now?" he asked kindly, expecting to be rebuffed.

She looked surprised. "Good, I suppose. I've seen better days," Elsa added in an undertone.

Now he was as surprised as she looked. "Queen Elsa, are you – are you making conversation with me?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." The young woman's gaze shifted away from him, focusing on the harbor of Corona and the castle, rising on an island in the middle. Distant booms and sounds of fireworks indicated the celebration was still going strong. "I'm just… I don't know what to say." Elsa gave a short laugh.

"You could explain what you're doing here instead of being at the ball?" He jerked his head in the direction of the castle. "I believe that party's being thrown in _your _honour."

The suddenly weary expression on her face was something he hadn't been expecting from Elsa. Certainly, he had seen many aspects of her that she would rather keep hidden, thanks to the events that surrounded her coronation; but this was different. She was acting strangely.

And he knew strange. Hans had seen her at her most fragile and vulnerable, and now it was like nothing had changed since that cold day on the fjord.

"When you spend as much time in isolation as I have, you don't find parties and people that appealing anymore."

He deliberately ignored the bitterness in her voice. "Especially when you meet charming strangers that ask you for your sister's hand in marriage that very night?"

Elsa shot him a sharp look. Hans regretted his words instantly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He raised both hands in what was meant as a placating gesture. "Sorry. That was uncalled for," said Elsa hastily before Hans could open his mouth. "I've just been feeling – _tense_ – recently."

"You think too much."

"I beg your pardon?"

Hans glanced over at her. "You let me get to you. Am I right? And before you say anything else – " he continued in a louder tone at the expression on her face " – you're normally in control but you weren't. You overthought things."

"Actually," she said in frosty tones, "I managed to resolve all my thoughts neatly, thank you very much. That's why you're out here on this ship, instead of rotting away in that cell, talking to stone bricks."

Hans winced. "You don't pull your punches, don't you?"

"Never saw any reason to be diplomatic when there's no call for it." Elsa's eyes sparked with amusement. "Also, Anna's the one who doesn't pull her punches."

He smiled ruefully. "She has quite an arm."

As barbed as their exchange had sounded, Hans felt that it had the desired effect of thawing the ice between them, and it was evident in the lines of her posture. Elsa looked more comfortable now, rather than like the porcelain doll in danger of falling she usually was.

"Here," said Hans, walking over to the barrels and gesturing for her to follow, "sit down. It's going to be a long night, and since you don't seem like you'll be going back up to the castle for a while…"

She looked disconcerted. "I'm heading back up right now."

"Oh."

"I have some things to discuss with Rapunzel – we didn't get the chance, after that, _incident_, at my coronation…"

"I see."

Hans couldn't believe he was feeling disappointment. Evidently Elsa was feeling the same way, because she took two steps towards the gangplank and paused.

"We'll see how things progress tomorrow night," said the young woman, brushing back a strand of loose hair.

"Tomorrow night?"

"If you'll be around," she said with a wry grin.

Hans laughed and swept her a bow. "If I have any pressing engagements, Your Majesty, I'll let you know."

* * *

Once Elsa left, Hans relapsed into his favourite position, sitting in the coils of rope on the deck. His hands were still raw and painful, so he left off the woodcarving in favour of rebraiding rope.

The captain stomped on the deck. "You there, Hans?"

"Aye, sir."

"Good."

Receding footsteps echoed back below to the captain's cabin.

Hans continued his work.

"You're looking well, little brother."

He whirled around, face pale; he knew that voice.

"Haakon."

His twelfth brother, Prince Haakon of the Southern Isles. Hans' own face sneered back at him, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of the sword at his waist. The older prince even had sideburns, but his features were tighter than his brother's.

"Oh? Didn't notice the bandages. Beg pardon, I'm sure."

"_What are you doing here_?" hissed Hans, eyes darting around, checking for bystanders.

"Same as you were when you went to Arendelle," replied the prince. "Establishing diplomatic ties with the European kingdoms. Trying to marry into said kingdoms' royal family."

"I recognized Queen Elsa in the ball earlier tonight, and thought to myself: "So this is the woman who defeated little Hans!" I followed her when she snuck out of the castle, and here I am now."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Hans gritted his teeth. "Stop playing your little games, and get out of here, _now_."

Haakon grinned. "What, can't I check on my little brother's welfare?"

"I believe the royal family of the Southern Isles severed all ties with me."

"We wouldn't. Not without good reason."

He paced angrily. "Whatever you have to say to me, I don't want to hear it."

The older man's face turned cold. "I would advise you to hear whatever it is I have to say, because it is infinitely better than your own foolish plotting, which led you to this state." Haakon's lip curled and he kicked at the half-finished rope Hans had been working on.

"I know what I'm doing! I practically have her in the palm of my hand!"

Haakon considered this briefly. "You have a point. She came to see you, didn't she? And as a traitor and prisoner, you were allowed out of prison to come here? Your resourcefulness never fails to astound me."

"My time here is short. Now listen carefully. Your brothers haven't forgotten you, little Hans, because you are still useful. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"… What do you want from me?"

"Cordial diplomatic relations with the newly-crowned King Hans of Arendelle." The prince adjusted the high collar of his jacket. "Our father may have some requests of you. In theory Arendelle will be a sovereign kingdom, but you answer to Father."

Hans' expression didn't change. "What will you give me?"

"Our unstinting support." Haakon drew a dagger from his belt and laid it on a nearby barrel. "When the time is right, send word home with this, and the army and navy of the Southern Isles is at your bidding."

Hans was silent. "This will take time. I haven't fully regained her confidence yet."

"Oh, Hans," purred Haakon, "we expected nothing less; you've already screwed up once."

He clenched his fists. "Damnnation!" Hans threw a clumsy punch; his older brother easily sidestepped it.

Still smirking, Haakon turned to leave. "Our father still believes you will succeed. Try not to disappoint him again."

And then he was gone, as quickly as he had appeared.

Breathing hard, Hans stood stock-still for a moment; with another curse, he punched the mainmast. Blood oozed from split knuckles and dyed the bandages red.

* * *

Despite having more or less full control over her powers, Elsa was still hesitant to dance.

"Not gonna cut a rug?" said Rapunzel, materializing from the throng of people with a glass of champagne in her hand.

Elsa eyed the flute. "Should you be drinking? You're Anna's age, aren't you? And what do you mean, 'cut a rug'?"

The younger girl shrugged. "I'm married. That automatically makes me an adult. And it's a new expression. It means to dance." Grinning cheekily, she took a sip. "_Aaand_ no one's gonna notice anyway."

"You're terrible." The older girl chuffed a laugh. "Anna would love you."

"Speaking of Anna, why didn't she come on this visit?"

"Well, I've only just been crowned Queen and after that eternal winter affair, we talked it over and decided it would be better if one heir stays behind in Arendelle."

"Oh." The princess bit her lip.

Rapunzel blinked, as though struck by a sudden thought, and turned back to her cousin.

"How'd you convince her to stay?"

Elsa sighed. "It wasn't easy…"

* * *

Anna slammed her hands down on the table. "_I am going with you and that's final_!"

Elsa tossed down the sheaf of papers she was reading and shot her sister an exasperated look. "We've been over this a thousand times, Anna – a thousand and one now. We can't leave Arendelle without an heir."

Glancing at the defiant look in her sister's eyes, Elsa added: "We won't count the eternal winter and what happened with Hans."

The younger girl flushed crimson – the queen knew she had touched a nerve. "That's different and you know it."

"No, it isn't." Elsa stood and walked over to the window. "Corona is a few days' journey away by ship. I won't be long, but – if anything happens to me – "

"Nothing's going to happen!" Anna's voice was suddenly thick with tears. "It'll be fine – "

"Mama and Papa were going to be fine! They were supposed to be home in two weeks!"

Elsa hadn't realized she'd been shouting until she saw Anna flinching. She continued in a calmer tone – although a slight tremor was still audible. "Things happen, Anna. We can't control fate."

"You can control your powers now – you could freeze the water – "

The blonde girl rubbed her temples. "It's not so easy. I could kill the people around me. I could have hurt you – "

"You won't, I trust you."

"How do you know these things for sure, Anna? How? Can you guarantee nothing will go wrong?"

She fell silent, biting her lip.

Elsa stumbled forward, throwing her arms around her sister, hugging her as though she would never let go.

"I almost lost you again. I won't lose you. I can't…"

Anna's arms wrapped around her. "You won't. I'm right here. I'll always be here with you, Elsa."

"I'll come home. I promise."

"… I know."

* * *

Rapunzel had let herself be dragged away by a bored Eugene; Elsa found that despite her earlier misgivings about her cousin's choice of consort, he was a good man for her.

_Around the same level of suitability as an ice harvester_, she thought with a wry smile. _It's funny how suitable princes were a little thin on the ground…_

"They don't just pop up like that, and bam! True love," she said aloud, sipping the champagne.

Somehow, she felt a lot better after talking to Hans; it was strange, given the things he'd done and had tried to do. The witty repartee and sharp banter was refreshing, for someone who had little of both her whole life…

"May I have the honour of this dance, my lady?"

It took all of her training in composure not to jump. The young man who had spoken had auburn hair, and was dressed in rich clothing…

"H – Hans?"

He chuckled and bowed deeply. "Close enough. Your servant, Prince Haakon of the Southern Isles. I see you're acquainted with my younger brother?"

"In a way," she said, nodding in acknowledgment. "He attended my coronation last summer."

Haakon's eyes widened. "Oh! Then you must be – " He knelt on the floor immediately, his head bent. "My deepest apologies on behalf of the Southern Isles, Your Majesty!"

Elsa blushed, placing her hand on his shoulder. "It's alright," she said awkwardly, trying to help him to his feet. "The matter has been dealt with."

His earnest green eyes bored into her own. "That traitor is no longer a brother to me, my queen; he is dead to us, and in his great shame and embarrassment, my father felt unworthy to respond to your letter – "

" – thank you, Prince Haakon," said Elsa firmly, cutting him off.

He blushed. "Sorry," mumbled Haakon, a sheepish look on his face. "It's just that – I have no words to express myself…"

She smiled, mostly to put the flustered young man at ease than any real feeling. "Your meaning is quite clear, and greatly appreciated." Elsa held out her hand. "About that dance…?"

"I thank you for your graciousness, Queen Elsa," he beamed, taking the proffered hand and kissing it.

* * *

Hans, as a precaution insisted upon by Elsa's retinue, slept in the hold under lock and key while they were docked in Corona. He was more than happy to oblige; he practically had the hold to himself. It was mostly empty, this being a diplomatic trip, and it was cooling at night.

He had been in Arendelle so long, he had forgotten how warm the southern states could be.

Lying half-asleep in his hammock, he was almost too drowsy to spot his visitor.

"Queen Elsa? It's late. Is there something wrong?"

In the half-light, her slim form gave a start.

"Nothing, I was on my way back to my quarters…"

He waited.

"… how are you feeling?"

Hans gave a low chuckle and sat up, holding out his hands. "Pretty much the same from earlier this evening." In the gloom, the angry red of his split knuckles was practically invisible.

"Oh. That's good." He could almost hear the embarrassment in her voice.

Smiling faintly, he walked over to the wooden bars to where she stood. Elsa wore her usual ice gown, a lamp clutched in one nervous hand.

"It's a nice night," he said, drawing a barrel from a corner of the hold and gesturing for her to do the same on her side of the bars.

Her eyes flashed momentarily; with a wave of a hand, an ice chair appeared out of nowhere and she primly seated herself in it.

Hans whistled appreciatively. "That works as well."

Elsa laughed, a melodious tinkling sound. "Much more elegant than pulling a barrel over."

"Was that a joke, Your Majesty?"

"No, that was a plain statement."

He studied her face the best he could in the dim light. Without the trappings of her queenship, she looked more relaxed than he'd ever seen her.

She looked like she was an ordinary girl instead of a crowned queen.

"So what brings Her Majesty down here to the holds? I'd offer you better hospitality, but I seem to be rather disadvantaged."

"Don't bother. I came down to check on you – see whether you were locked in properly."

"Right," he deadpanned.

She chose to ignore him. "It's much warmer in Corona than I expected."

"They aren't called the Kingdom of the Sun for nothing. But it _is _pretty warm for this time of the year."

"You've visited before?"

"Yes, when I was younger. I'd just only come of age, and my first official function as a Prince of the Southern Isles was one of the Night of the Floating Lights. The ceremony commemorating the Lost Princess' birthday."

Hans grinned. "I was so excited to be on my first trip from home. There was so much to see; there was dancing in the streets, and carnival games, and decorations everywhere…"

Elsa smiled she listened to his narration; she could almost see the scene he sketched.

"I was accompanied by my older brothers Klaus and Pieter. They were supposed to keep an eye on me and make sure I stayed out of trouble, but I gave them both the slip when they stopped to chat with a peasant girl…"

"And then what happened?"

"I got lost," he said with a laugh. "Eventually we met up again at the royal palace – we were guests of the King and Queen – and my brothers were furious. They weren't going to let me light their lantern for the princess but at the last minute, King Leopold intervened on my behalf. Said it was a matter of international politics."

She giggled and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.

He laughed too, an easy open sound. "What, is it that amusing?"

"Not really," she admitted with great reluctance. "But that sounds exactly like something Uncle Leopold would do."

The flickering lamplight caught the look of merriment in his eyes. "Not that amusing, hmm? Wait 'til I tell you about the time I went to this French prince's castle…"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows against the bars of his prison, rapt with attention as he talked. It was almost as good as the storybooks from her childhood, except these were stories of the real outside world she knew precious little of.

All because of her powers.

It must have shown in her face, because Hans stopped talking. "Is everything alright, Your Majesty?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine," she said, smiling her court smile. "Maybe a bit tired."

"You should sleep early, we set sail for Arendelle tomorrow morning."

"Yes. Thank you."

He watched her stiff-backed form as much as he was able, in the diminishing lamplight.

* * *

"Come back soon," said Rapunzel, kissing her cousin's cheeks. "Or else I'll have to go over there!" Prince Eugene's expression turned panicked, unnoticed by his wife.

Elsa smiled warmly.

"Of course. And next time I'll bring Anna."

Rapunzel's parents took turns to embrace her. "It was so good to see you, Elsa," whispered her aunt.

"Stay strong," said King Leopold.

The young queen boarded the ship, waving farewell to the royal family assembled on the pier. She continued waving until they were out of sight, the ship bobbing gently in the waves.

The voyage back to Arendelle was an uneventful one, much to everyone's relief.

* * *

"Elsa!"

Anna rocketed down the pier, up the gangplank, and straight into Elsa's arms. "I missed you soooooo much, oh my goodness!"

"Hi," said the queen with a laugh. "I missed you too."

Kristoff stood awkwardly by, shuffling his feet and mumbling a shy greeting – until Anna pulled him into the hug, arms wrapped around her boyfriend and older sister. "I'm so glad you're alright," she murmured.

The initial instinctive fear of human contact made Elsa stiffen for a moment; but then the soothing warmth broke down the wall she had built around herself. Elsa buried her face in the crook of Anna's neck, her gloved hands clutching her sister's clothes, feeling the stress and fear of the past few days gradually leaching from her body. "I was so scared," she confessed in a tiny voice, her eyes screwed up to stop the tears from falling.

Anna heard. "Elsa?" She pulled away a little, taking her older sister by the shoulders.

Elsa shook her head, giving her and Kristoff a watery smile. "I'm fine – it's just that it was a stressful journey…"

"Come on." The strawberry-blonde girl was taking her hands gently, leading her back to the castle. "You're okay, Elsa. I got you."

* * *

Hans watched Elsa go from his perch on the crossmast; as the ship sailed into the fjord, he had deemed it prudent to hide himself before the ship docked.

He could feel the eyes of the sailors on him, and wondered if they knew what was going on.


	6. Twist

**Author's Note:** As always, the notes for this chapter can be found on my tumblr.

* * *

The next thing Elsa knew, she was in the castle library on the couch. Anna and Kristoff were talking in low voices by the door; he leaned in to kiss her cheek and his worried eyes met Elsa's.

Kristoff gave her a reassuring smile and nod over Anna's head, and then he was gone. The door shut behind him with a click.

A rustle of heavy skirts. Anna sat down beside her, a familiar warm presence that soothed Elsa instantly. "What happened, Elsa?" asked her small worried voice.

She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to simply retreat into herself. And when she opened her mouth, the words came tumbling out.

"There was a storm," said the blonde girl. Anna's hand immediately felt for hers and gripped it. "We were caught in it, and – I panicked."

Visceral memory seared through her mind; the dark water, the frightened shouts of the men, the lurching of the ground beneath her feet –

"I started to freeze everything. I – don't remember exactly what happened next, but then – I thought of you."

The look in Anna's eyes was soft and encouraging. Elsa smiled shakily, squeezing her sister's hand back. "I managed to calm down and thaw everything."

She still had the presence of mind not to mention Hans' presence and his role in calming her down.

Anna listened without a word, her expression grave, and when Elsa stopped talking, she drew her sister into a hug. "Oh, Elsa."

The queen cried then, alone in the room with her little sister. Ice dusted her fingertips and melted on Anna's clothes; oblivious, she rubbed small circles on Elsa's back and held her close.

Elsa pulled away gently. "I'm sorry," she said at length, when she was convinced she could speak without her voice carrying the telltale wobble.

Anna gave her a soft, lopsided smile. "Don't be stupid, Elsa. What do you have to be sorry for?"

"This. I don't know; not being the strong older sister," she heard herself say. "I wish I could be as brave as you."

The younger girl shook her head. "I don't want to hear you say that ever again, Elsa. You've spent twenty-one years being strong. And there are other things more important than being brave; you're wonderful and smart and so elegant…"

"You're always having to look after me. Now's my turn to do the same for you."

"No," said Elsa with as much firmness as she could muster. "It's not about whose turn it is to take care of whom. There are things I have to do that I can't let you do, Anna." She looked away, out the window at the fjord. "I'm the Queen. There are other people I have to consider – "

" – I'm not a child anymore!" burst out Anna with some frustration, which made Elsa start. "Why can't anyone let me make decisions for myself?"

"Because you shouldn't. You shouldn't have to."

The strawberry-blonde sighed and put an arm around Elsa's shoulders. "But I want to."

Their eyes met. Anna's eyes were the exact same shade of teal as her own; but her little sister's was so much more determined. She could see it in the set of her mouth, the firm lines of her jaw, the steel in her gaze.

Elsa wondered when the little girl with pigtails had grown up, and felt a tinge of regret she had missed it.

Thirteen years' isolation had taken away a lot more than just sisterly bonding – Elsa realized she no longer knew the young woman on the other side of the door.

The young queen took a deep breath. "Anna," she began hesitantly, "you're right."

Anna blinked. "Wait, what?"

It brought a small smile to Elsa's lips. "You're right. You're no longer a child anymore, and I really should learn to trust you more. I can't – I can't keep on protecting you," a wry look entered her eye, "or think I'm attempting to."

"You shouldn't have to protect me – I can take care of myself."

The memory of their conversation weeks earlier made the queen smile.

"I know you can take care of yourself," she said, squeezing Anna's hand. "But I want to have the chance to take care of you." Elsa's expression turned wistful. "While I still can."

She smiled back, her eyes a little watery. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me for life, Elsa. Apart from you, who's gonna stop me from marrying guys I'd just met?" laughed Anna, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "And even now, I swear, if you could see some of the stuff Kristoff gets up to…"

"Never mind Kristoff, I'm more worried about the things you drag him into," Elsa retorted. "And if I recall correctly, you didn't take my big sister-decision very well…"

Anna gave her sister's shoulder a small push. "Well, why couldn't you have tropical powers or something? Then you could've covered the fjord with warm, sandy beaches instead…"

"I'm terribly sorry, for being born with just ice powers," said Elsa, rolling her eyes.

The princess just giggled. "You're such a stinker."

* * *

When the ship was docked, Hans had precious little to do; such that he almost wanted to be stuck on night duty, because at least he had something.

The boredom was terrible. He'd braided enough rope to outfit the little merchant ship for a good few voyages. He was almost bored enough to go back to his plotting –

_Ah. My plotting_. Hans bent down on the pretence of rubbing his ankle; in reality, he checked the dagger hidden in his boot.

Haakon had forced him into this – by giving him a way out, when Hans wasn't sure he could take it. When he doubted himself.

Haakon. Barely a year older than Hans, and as cunning as men twice his age and experience. The prince with the face of an angel and the heart of a devil.

It wasn't him who had coined that phrase; it had been the people of the Southern Isles, hearing rumours of an unfortunate family who had fallen afoul of Haakon. The daughter of the family had caught the prince's eye, and when she became pregnant, her father had come to the palace to demand the baby's father marry his daughter.

* * *

Haakon looked down his nose, lip curling as he took in the humbly-dressed man. "How many in your family, sir?" he said.

"My lord?"

"How many?" he repeated.

"Four, my liege," answered the man with some confusion. "Myself, my wife, my daughter, and her brother."

"I see." Haakon clasped his hands behind his back. "Have you told anyone else of this matter?"

The man looked confused. Hans, standing to the side, suddenly realized what was happening; he felt nauseous.

"Haakon, no," he hissed, crossing the hall and seizing his brother's arm.

Haakon shook off the hand coldly. "Stay out of this, little brother." He walked over to the kneeling man and clasped his shoulder. "Come, Father," he said, "return to your home. My men will go with you, and escort my wife-to-be back to the palace, where she shall be prepared for our wedding."

"Y – yes, Prince Haakon!" stammered the man. Hans saw the happiness in the poor man's eyes, and nearly retched.

"Your Highness – won't His Majesty disapprove of such a marriage – "

"My father would have no objections whatsoever to any decision I make," said Haakon smoothly.

Hans left the room and locked himself in his chambers.

The next morning, he wasn't surprised to hear that the family had vanished, their house burnt to cinders in a fire.

He'd gone to the older prince's chambers, stomach turning in disgust. "Haakon, you – "

" – I did what had to be done," said the man coldly, "and if I may give you a word of advice, Hans, a king cannot afford to be this – _softhearted_."

Hans was still sickened. But ambition chipped away at his reservations with cold reason: It was that man's folly. His daughter shouldn't have gotten pregnant. The scandal would have destroyed the royal family's reputation. There was no way he could have stopped Haakon and his men.

He stopped thinking after the first sleepless night.

* * *

Hans wasn't sure if he was better because he would never stoop to Haakon's level, or worse because if he had been in his brother's position, he would have done the dirty work himself, to be sure there were no witnesses left alive.

* * *

Heavy footsteps stopped in front of him, startling him from his thoughts.

"Boy," growled a familiar voice.

The young man smiled mirthlessly. "Sieg."

* * *

The walk to the prison felt longer than normal, and the dagger weighed heavily on his foot with every step.

Hans grimaced. He'd held greater secrets and plots before; he had gone soft in captivity.

His brother had forced his hand – though whether he was aware of it, Hans couldn't be certain. Haakon was, after all, a master manipulator. Before, Hans would have taken the dagger without a moment's hesitation; he would have used it to stab her with a smile on his face, and taken the blood-stained crown from her body.

The game had had changed now. Anna had been a sweet girl who had charmed herself with the idea of him, but in Elsa he found a truly fascinating counterpart; a formidable opponent to meet on the chessboard.

_Can I raise my sword to her again?_

He tripped over a flagstone and swore. Sieg snorted derisively.

Hans decided it would be safer to focus on his physical situation.

Sieg's presence was not unexpected. It was reasonable enough to suppose that he would be put back in prison, now that the merchant ship had sufficient sailors, he thought. Equally reasonable was the circumstances that demanded he be put under lock and key, since it was tempting fate for him to be out of Arendelle without a proper guard.

But as the door slammed shut behind him, Hans felt a twinge of despair to be facing four walls again.

"Hello, old friend," he muttered, staring down at the stone slab.

The pallet bed was exactly as he'd left it; the faded green blanket crumpled at its foot. He remembered seeing it for the first time when he had brought her back to Arendelle, shackling her in those silver manacles –

Hans shook his head.

He paced over to the window, where he could just see the mast of the merchant ship he'd just left. They'd sailed to Corona on a diplomatic visit. She'd visited him in the hold.

With an angry noise, Hans returned to his pallet and sat on the floor. There was his battered water pitcher, with the large dent in the side where he'd kicked in in a fit of childish petulance after she'd cooled his fever –

The young man ran his hands through thick auburn hair, mussing the already tousled locks. The skin was still pinkish from having the skin frozen off –

"Damnation!" he swore, shutting his eyes.

It was a mistake.

Images sprang to mind –

The steely look filled with determination, that dared him to speak –

The tilt of her jaw as she laughed at a joke he'd told –

Her smile –

_Obsession; that's what it was_, said Hans to himself. He'd struck a deal with Haakon and his brothers. He could still become King of Arendelle if he played his cards right. He would need all his powers of seduction and cunning if he _wanted_ to play his cards right.

But that had been before he got to know Elsa.

He needed to overthrow the Queen of Arendelle – not Elsa.

_She is a remote figure, an opponent in the game to be outmaneuvered and checkmated – and not Elsa, the shy, clever girl with the infectious laugh and captivating smile._

A sensation of something he vaguely recognized nagged at his heart, gnawing away at him. The last time a person had filled his thoughts so completely, he'd been a young boy at his father's court, and he had seen a young princess from another kingdom accompanying her father on a visit.

* * *

Their eyes had met across the crowded hall and she had smiled; he'd felt a prickle in his chest. Hans supposed he was falling ill; the young prince had spent late nights reading in the library in the days previously.

She had approached him again later at night and he'd fallen all over himself trying to ask her for a dance; with an undignified giggle, she'd agreed and offered her hand.

The warm feeling stayed in his chest all night.

After she'd left, he'd written her letters. He hadn't known what one wrote in letters to princesses, and simply told her what he'd learnt from his tutors.

Her replies, filled with frivolous sentiments and courtly language, puzzled him enough to take them to his tutors – who had laughed him out of their classrooms.

"Surely, Prince Hans, you know how to talk to a young lady?" they said.

In the end, he'd never replied. Years later, he heard that she'd been married off to a duke or something.

The warm feeling was replaced by a pain, and Hans reasoned that he was sick. The pain was gone after a day's bedrest, and he paid no more attention to the matter.

_Come to think of it, this is the same feeling that I felt that night on the ship, when I was with her. When her hands were in mine._

His head dropped into his hands.

It was unthinkable, laughable, ridiculous.

A prince doesn't have feelings.

A prince doesn't have feelings for a woman he tried to kill – and is still trying to.

Slowly, Hans lifted his head. "Damn you, Haakon," he growled, clenching white-knuckled fists.

* * *

Elsa didn't convene the meeting with her burghers and masters that day. Anna told them to come back the next day, as "Her Majesty Queen Elsa was still tired from the voyage, and needed time to recover."

"I am, and I do?" asked Elsa with some bemusement as Anna came back to her room, wearing a triumphant expression.

"You are," her sister informed her with mock solemnity. "Put on your nightgown and wait here, I'll be right back with – _suitable remedies_, Your Majesty…" Her lips twitched, and she let out a giggle.

The queen couldn't help but to smile; the younger girl's humour was infectious. "Yes, Princess Anna," said Elsa, and both girls started giggling.

When Anna returned with hot chocolate, it turned out her idea was to have a lazy day "Anna-style" – which involved copious amounts of hot chocolate, cushions, and laughter.

Elsa took a sip from the warm mug in her hands. Rich and creamy, with that malty cocoa flavor she loved so much.

"This is delicious, did you make it?" she asked, immediately regretting the question the moment it left her lips. Of course she didn't, Anna isn't as free as too personally make hot chocolate for her sister.

Anna grinned. "Nope. I'm banned from the kitchens permanently after I destroyed a frying pan trying to make chocolate waffles. But the cocoa is a favourite of Mama and Papa."

"I didn't know they liked hot chocolate," remarked Elsa. "And I don't think I want to know about the waffles…"

Her sister blushed. "They loved it, Papa especially. He used to joke that we should move Arendelle further south so we could grow cocoa." Anna drank deeply from her own mug. "I'd always thought we got our love of chocolate from him."

The idea of her father loving chocolate seemed absurd to Elsa for some reason. "I never saw Papa or Mama eat chocolate," she confessed.

"Wait, what? Really?" Anna looked stunned.

The blonde girl blushed under her sister's scrutiny. "I never stayed long at mealtimes, remember? I always excused myself before dessert."

"Oh." The princess brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

Elsa forced a smile. "It's no big deal, Anna," she said softly, "that time is past." She put down the mug, reaching over to touch her sister's cheek. "Open doors, remember? We have a whole lifetime to build snowmen and ride bicycles."

"It doesn't have to be a snowman." Anna hiccoughed, the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile. "You remembered."

"I was always listening."

The strawberry-blonde girl snuggled closer, resting her head in the crook of Elsa's neck.

* * *

In the late afternoon, Elsa had begged off her 'treatment' to go to her study and tackle some of the more important correspondence that had been awaiting her return from Corona.

Sieg found her there, surrounded by an impressive mound of paperwork.

He cleared his throat and she looked up.

"Sieg?"

"Queen Elsa," he said without preamble, "I thought you would like to know that the prisoner has been transferred back to his cell."

She stopped writing. "What? Why?"

"The ship he was serving on will be sailing for Novgorod tomorrow afternoon; the captain and harbourmaster requested I take him back into my custody." Sieg cleared his throat. "Pending your orders, my queen."

"I understand." Elsa signed her name at the bottom of the writ and stood up. "I will see the prisoner and make my decision."

* * *

The last person Hans wanted to see at that moment, lost as he was in indecision and conflicting feelings, was the regal young woman.

But she entered his cell without ceremony; he hastily got to his feet, hissing in pain as his palms grated on the stone floor.

Her gaze flickered towards his hands, but she said nothing.

"Queen Elsa," he said, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Your fate." She smiled faintly. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

"You had quite a few options, as I recall."

Elsa pretended not to hear him. "I don't think I can put you to work in the stables… Anna rides often. Perhaps one of the tradesmen…"

Hans stopped listening. His attention refocused on her, trying to puzzle out the reason why she had the same effect on him as the little princess.

And somewhere along the way, he had lost his drive to play the game. She was no longer a rival player, the opponent to beat, but…

Suddenly, losing didn't seem so bad.

"Is the prospect of spending years of hard labour in Arendelle becoming too boring for you?" said Elsa sardonically.

He was startled. "I – no. My apologies."

The young queen eyed him carefully. Hans forced a smile.

"In any case, I think I'm done here." She half-turned to go.

He watched her leave, his heart turning over; Haakon had forced him into a tight spot indeed.

* * *

"Your Majesty?"

Elsa looked up from her book. "Yes, Kai?"

"You have a visitor from the Southern Isles." The veteran butler tried not to let his suspicion show in his voice. "Prince Haakon."

"Haakon?" She frowned and tried to remember why that name sounded familiar. "Ah – his brother's apologist," said Elsa.

She rose from her seat. "I will receive him in the throne room," she instructed Kai.

He was ushered into the hall where she awaited, seated on Arendelle's throne.

"Welcome to Arendelle, Prince Haakon," said Elsa formally. "It's good to see you."

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Your Majesty," answered Haakon as he bowed and kissed her outstretched hand. "How have you been lately?"

"Busy as always; governance is a burden no matter what others say."

He laughed politely. "To others, perhaps so, but I have trouble believing that you have any difficulty. Alas, my queen, my visit today is much more serious than I would have liked."

"Oh?"

Haakon's handsome face turned grave. "I have a serious matter to discuss with you, Queen Elsa."

* * *

It was another sleepless night for Hans. To while away the hours, he took to sitting at the window, watching the fjord. It was late autumn now; the nights had gotten much colder as the north winds swept in.

The worn green blanket draped over his shoulders, Hans watched the ships in the harbour rock gently with the tide.

It was almost like being on night duty again.

His thoughts drifted like seafoam on the waves.

_Fireworks. A dark harbour surrounding a castle of light. Her eyes caught the lantern light and showed him changeable shades of blue…_

What had she said about Kant? Something about morality…

_Morality based on reason – she was talking about my behaviour._

He smiled at the memory of her serious face. Of course he'd read Kant. The Southern Isles had a well-stocked library, thanks to generations of scholar-kings before his father – albeit somewhat in disrepair, as King Magnus preferred conquering kingdoms to reading about them.

Hans was no scholar, but he had read some of the essentials as recommended by the royal tutors.

He'd been pleasantly surprised when Elsa mentioned Kant. The young man hadn't been expecting much after meeting Anna (the girl had confessed that her literary tastes ran to and stopped at the Brothers Grimm) but it appeared that Elsa was more fond of books than her sister.

He'd been reluctant to engage her in debate, wary of her intentions.

_Maybe we can discuss philosophy one day._

The thought was fleeting, but pleasant.

* * *

Long after Anna had fallen asleep, her hair in disarray due to her tossing and turning in her sleep, Elsa took to the windowseat where she had spent many long hours.

Her palms rested lightly on the cracked and warped wood; although damaged from repeated freezing and thawing, Elsa never allowed the sill to be repaired. It was a reminder of her isolation.

From the window, she commanded a magnificent view of the castle courtyard and fjord. The clouded sky still betrayed a few rays of moonlight that picked out the fishing boats in the harbour, the houses of the town, the far-off mountains.

The harbour wasn't ablaze with many little lights, the castle dark and quiet, and he wasn't on board the ship…

Elsa bit her lip.

He was cruel, evil, and conniving. He had attempted to kill her and Anna, and come precariously close to doing both. He had taken advantage of a naïve girl's affections and thrown them down in the harshest way possible, trampled in the path towards his own towering ambition – more than once.

And he had helped her.

She knew she was betraying everything she stood for, everyone she loved. It had been a huge mistake to even keep him prisoner; she should have just ended his life, or washed her hands of him.

Instead, she had shown him her vulnerability for him to exploit, to worm his way into her affections as he had told Anna was his intention, and gotten uncomfortably close.

It was a good thing she had been saved from making another mistake.

Tomorrow, she would ask him for the dagger.

* * *

Hans' head snapped up when he heard the feminine voice outside his cell.

"Queen Elsa," he croaked as she flung the door open. Her face looked like it had been sculpted from ice, all hard planes and cold beauty.

"Where is it?" she asked.

He blinked. "What?"

"The dagger." Elsa held out one hand, the other clenched into a trembling fist in her skirt. "Where have you hidden it?"

Hans felt a queer swooping sensation as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. "Queen Elsa, I – "

"Don't. Play games. With me," she ground out through her clenched teeth. Layered beneath her anger was disappointment, and it stung.

Wordlessly, he bent down and pulled the dagger from his boot. Turning the hilt towards her, he placed it in her waiting hand. Ice sprang up around it and completely encased the dagger; another gesture shattered the metal into useless fragments.

The pieces in Hans' mind fell neatly into place. "Haakon told you," he said abruptly.

The flash in her eyes told him he had been right. "I see no need to tell you anything," she said, in the cold neutral tone he remembered from their first meeting after the eternal winter.

Hans leaned against the wall, laughing shakily. "Of course. Of course. I've been such a fool. Father would never have forgiven me." He stared at the shards of the dagger. "Outmanoeuvred by my brother in one masterstroke."

"I suppose you owe him your gratitude now? Perhaps you will accept him as an ambassador of the Southern Isles to Arendelle? Or maybe a dynastic alliance?" he asked bitterly.

"I am grateful for nothing," she snapped, and Hans was shocked by how hurt she sounded; _fragile_, like cracked porcelain_. _"This episode has simply proven to me that princes of the Southern Isles cannot be trusted, least of all _you_."

"Queen Elsa – "

She crouched down, holding his eyes with her ferocious stare. "Look me in the eye, Hans, and tell me you didn't take the dagger willingly. Tell me he forced it on you, or he planted it on your person."

He looked away and said nothing.

Elsa's gaze turned icy. "Very well," she said, standing up straight, "that settles it."

She walked out like a true queen, head held high. "Sieg, arrange for a ship to deliver the prisoner back to the Southern Isles."

"Yes, my queen."

Hans' breath came in curling misty clouds, the only movement in the cell.


	7. Stalemate

**Author's Note:** Wow, this took quite a bit out of me to write.

* * *

More than ever, Hans was painfully aware of how apt the metaphor of a _ship cut adrift_ was; he felt completely lost, moving without direction, carried whichever way the waters took him. He hated being completely at someone's mercy.

And most of all, he hated how Elsa was at the centre of everything.

Hans was alone with the startling knowledge of what Haakon had done – and that she knew, she cared, and she was disappointed in him.

The fact that _he cared that she cared_ made things much worse. Anger burned white-hot in his stomach.

_Haakon was there. Haakon had met her at the Coronan palace. Haakon had planned this right from the start._

He had engineered a downfall more crushing than Hans' own on the frozen fjord.

_She hates you._

"Damn, I – " He was suddenly irritated; he'd been so soundly outwitted by his older brother he wasn't sure if he'd ever be a player for a throne again. And here he was, unable to turn his thoughts away from her, when he should have been planning a counter-attack.

_She's disappointed in you._

"I didn't want her to like me," said Hans aloud, and immediately regretted it. "I don't need anybody to like me."

_Stupid, as always. _The voice of his brothers and mother sounded in his head. _How pathetic. As expected from little Hans._

Hans gritted his teeth. "I'm past this." He'd buried himself in his plotting, in his machinations and his grand ambitions; somewhere deep inside, he longed to come back, a glittering royal figure with a crown, and prove them all wrong. "I'll show you."

_Oh, Hans. If only there was somebody out there who loved you._

"I don't need love." His fists clenched in his lap; he watched dispassionately as the knuckles whitened with tension. "Power. Strength. This is what matters."

_Elsa._

And his stomach turned again; Hans ran a hand through his hair.

_She isn't important. She doesn't matter; what she thinks of me doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the throne._

It sounded less convincing than he remembered.

* * *

Elsa wasn't sure why she was so upset.

She hadn't been overly surprised by the revelation; Haakon had commented on her cool reaction with some astonishment. But she found herself dwelling on it again and again.

_You were expecting him to have changed?_

The niggling thought was banished quickly, but the idea continued to prick at her.

Much to her dismay, she found that she had been thinking of Hans as a friend – _straining the term considerably_, she thought – and not just as a prisoner and traitor.

She could have reasoned it was only logical; after all, Elsa had hardly interacted with the prince as a person in his own right. He was Anna's suitor, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, his introduction and engagement to her sister announced in the same breath. He was also Hans, the disgraced prince and her would-be murderer.

Elsa didn't really remember the details of what happened on the fjord that day (it pained her), but when she thought about those events, the perpetrator was faceless and bland.

The man she remembered in the storm on the ship, who chatted quite pleasantly about his life, who threw her own words in her face like no one else had dared to; that was the Hans she had gotten to know.

Suddenly, it was difficult to reconcile those two people.

_As expected from a liar and a manipulator_, whispered the little voice. _Worming his way into your good graces, turning on the charm. Anna couldn't resist him; how can you?_

"I can," she said aloud.

_You are the Queen, he is your prisoner. He isn't anything to you but the lowest of scum. _

"Yes," said Elsa, but her eyes told a different story.

* * *

Against all hope, she came to see him the night before he was due to leave.

Hans didn't look up from his pallet. "My queen."

"Why?" was all she asked, her voice as taut as a bowstring.

He almost snorted. "Isn't it obvious why?"

She brushed his mocking tone aside. "That's not what I'm asking, and you know it. You can stop playing your games now."

A forced laugh, that rang hollow in the bare cell. "I'm not playing games any more, believe me."

"All you want is the crown. Everything else in between is a game to you."

"We can play with words like this all night, Your Majesty, but I sense you have something much more important on your mind."

"Tell me what happened." Her eyes were as cold and blue as a winter's morning.

"Didn't Haakon – "

" – he did, but I want to hear what you have to say."

Hans looked surprised. "Haakon came to see me on the ship that night in Corona, after you'd left. He offered me the dagger and told me to finish what I'd started."

"A true brother," she said dryly. He ignored her.

"I admit that I still wanted the throne at that moment, when I took it from him." The young man looked away from her, out the window. "But when we returned to Arendelle, things felt… _different_. I couldn't go ahead with it. I was going to throw it into the water..." Hans trailed off uncertainly.

She didn't say anything.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried again. "I still want my own kingdom, make no mistake. But somehow..."

_I don't want to win if it means you lose. I can't bear the thought of killing you again. I look at all these things, and they remind me of you. I think I might even be happy even without a crown on my head, and I don't understand why. _Thoughts spiralled in his head uselessly, and Hans struggled to speak.

"Look," he said sharply, the tension he felt bleeding into his words, "I won't make excuses for the things I did in the past – Anna, and now this. But believe me when I say everything had changed."

Elsa's face was unreadable. "I don't believe you," she said quietly.

He offered her a ghost of a smile. "I don't expect you to." It came a tad sharper than he'd imagined it to be; still she didn't react. "I have trouble believing it myself."

"You're not making any sense."

"Remember you talked about Kant? About morality based on reason?"

She nodded.

"In the past, everything I did, I did to gain power, and would have seen nothing wrong with it." His eyes met hers. "But I can't do that any more. The dagger represented everything that was before, and I felt… I couldn't finish what I'd started."

"I doubt you even had morals to begin with," she said flatly, but Hans could have sworn he saw a flicker in her eyes. "And now?"

"Now I've stopped playing games."

Elsa frowned. "And what you've done so far can hardly be seen as a serious effort."

"In chess, the pawns are sacrificed so the queen can conquer."

"Only if there is a greater end in mind, which justifies the means. And the pawns are protected as much as possible."

"Pawns serve their monarch and not the other way around."

"The pawns' loyalty is wasted on a cruel monarch who decides his chess pieces are an affordable loss."

His lips curved into a thin smile. "Oh? Is that what you think, Queen Elsa?"

"I think _you_ would make a tyrannical king," she snapped.

"No, Elsa. You and I both know that's not true; we are very much alike. As Queen, you have to be capable of doing things people would hate you for. You have to forget that you're human, and be prepared to sacrifice pawns for your own ambitions."

She felt a hot flare of anger. "That's not true. And just who are you, to think you know me?"

"Oh, I don't_ know_ you – not in the way that most people think it means," he said, raising his eyebrows. "I merely said you're like me. And I know what it's like to be misunderstood by the people around me. I know what it feels like to cry myself to sleep because I'm scared and alone."

"You're not much different," continued Hans. "You were forced to hide your powers from everything and everyone as long as you could remember."

"We're not the same – "

" – you can stop denying it." He looked suddenly weary. "You think you're a monster, don't you."

"I don't – " She cut herself off, willing the tremor from her lips. "I have sacrificed many things you _cannot begin to imagine_ to prevent that from happening – "

He held up a hand patiently. "Let me finish."

"... What?"

"The difference between you and I is the things we chose to pursue. As long as you have had someone precious to you, someone to protect, you have never been a monster."

Elsa bit her lip.

Hans smiled. "You came so _close_, and I couldn't let you be the monster," he said very matter-of-factly, as though they were discussing the weather, "because I already am."

"You, a monster?"

"I think I need not justify that." The smile disappeared from his face as abruptly as it had appeared. "When Anna told me about how you'd shut her out, I thought you were the same as me – of course, later I found out about your powers along with everyone else. but the first thing that came to my mind was _she must have been so lonely_."

She shook her head. "We are nothing alike," repeated Elsa stubbornly. "You're manipulative and cruel, and you don't know me."

"Yes, I don't know what are your favourite foods, or what your favourite colour is. But I know that you appear beautiful and strong, but still so precariously fragile." Hans paused. "Like ice," he added as an afterthought.

"Stop it."

"It hurts, doesn't it? Everything I say? It's not because I'm manipulative and cruel. It's because you _know_ it to be true, deep inside, even if you haven't realised it yet." Hans kept his hands behind his back; the cold was beginning to sting his fingers. "Think about it. Have I ever lied to you?"

"You have never really said _anything_ that meant _something_ to me."

"Exactly. What is cold but the absence of heat? What is a lie, but the absence of truth?"

"That's enough." Elsa's eyes were hard and cold and veiled. "I'm tired of all these games and empty words. I was wrong to have come here," she bit out. "and thankfully, won't be making that mistake again. Farewell, Hans."

She turned to leave.

"Before you go," he called, "answer me this: When you escaped from your cell that day, where were you going?"

Elsa froze.

"You weren't going to find Anna, weren't you? You were so terrified. All you could think of was getting away, far from Arendelle, where you wouldn't be able to hurt anyone anymore – just like you did at your coronation, am I right?"

She whirled on him.

"You're still afraid, Elsa." The words were spoken softly, yet she heard them ring in her ears like an accusation. Her mouth went dry; she clenched bare fists in the folds of her dress.

"That's not true."

"Oh? It took Anna's _death_ to stop you from running. You froze her heart like match yours." He placed a hand on his chest. "_Ice_."

Elsa flinched involuntarily.

"And that's what you're so afraid of, Elsa. You're not scared of hiding your powers any more. You're scared of being a coward."

"I'm not _scared_," ground out Elsa.

"You fear you can't be the person you want to be for her. She gave everything for you. You tried to protect her, but in spite of everything, you couldn't keep her safe; you thought you'd failed." His eyes blazed. "You even asked _me_ to take care of her. The fiancé she got engaged to after _one day_. You believed anyone else could protect her better than _you_ could."

She could only open and close her mouth silently, chest heaving.

The look that Hans gave her was almost kind. "Still think I don't know you?" he asked.

Very slowly, her composure returned. "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," said the queen without a tremor, her head held high.

Their eyes met; inscrutable brownish-green and cold ice-blue. Elsa glared back, as though daring him to say more. He didn't break contact, but there was something in his eyes which made her feel uncertain of herself.

Hans looked away first, and shrugged. "You know… this is most likely the last time we will see each other."

"You think I'm not aware of that?" she said sharply, surprised by the sudden change of topic. Elsa felt like she had missed something somewhere.

Hans ran a hand through his hair. "… No," he admitted.

"Then? What's your point?"

He looked like he was about to blurt out something, but then reined himself in. "I – well – I just want to say, under different circumstances – I think we could have been friends."

_Maybe more than friends_, said the little voice in the back of his mind.

Elsa was about to reply with a snide _if you hadn't tried to kill me_, but the memory of the look in his eyes stilled her tongue. "Friends," she echoed incredulously. "You've been nothing but anger and resentment, full of riddles and games and _nonsense_, and you say we could have been _friends_?"

Hans met her gaze. "Despite everything that has transpired, and everything that I've said," he said bluntly, "I don't want our last conversation to end on bad terms."

"Look," he added, shaking his head, colour flooding his cheeks, "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean – I shouldn't have said those things, I – yes."

If Elsa stopped thinking, she could almost believe he was telling the truth. If she chose to ignore everything else that lay in between, she could bring herself to trust the awkward young man before her.

_If – _

"Fine," said the young queen, willing herself to be calm, exercising every bit of self-control she possessed. "I don't understand you, Hans, and I probably never will." Here she paused, wrapping an arm around her waist self-consciously.

"But perhaps... in another time, another place, under different circumstances… yes, we could have been friends."

He smiled slowly.

* * *

She didn't go back to her room; she knew that sleep would elude her. Elsa went to the library to be alone with her thoughts – _a practice_, she thought ruefully, _that had only come about because of Hans._

_Him and his _ice_._

_Perhaps he's right._

The thoughts flashed across her mind and she frowned, her fingers tangling and untangling in her braid. The snowflakes keeping it in place melted and Elsa combed out her hair with her fingers absentmindedly.

Elsa did wonder why Anna would put up with such a socially-awkward, dangerous woman as herself; not just Anna, but the entire kingdom of Arendelle. She had spent thirteen years isolated from everyone, three of those years seeing no one at all. Upon turning twenty-one, the dour old regents had brought her out to be crowned.

_As she holds the holy properties, and is crowned in this holy place, I present to you __Queen Elsa of Arendelle._

By right of blood, and birth order; those were the only things that gave her the right to be queen.

_You may have been born to be queen, but you were brought up to be a good one._ The voice of reason, always so sensible and mature, which had sustained her every time she wanted to go outside and play in the snow with Anna. Over time, that simple_ I don't want to hurt her_ became convoluted with adult reasoning – _you have to be the good girl. You have responsibilities. One day, you'll be the ruler of the kingdom and everyone's depending on you._

Over time, Elsa forgot what it was like to be _free _and learned what it was to be_ afraid._

_Protect Anna. Protect Arendelle._

She had come so close to protecting them from the monster that she was, the Elsa the Queen of Arendelle kept under control; but the gloves had come off and she was left with nothing. Anna had saved her from herself; but every day she was reminded of her failure.

All Elsa had to do was to be a good girl. Close the doors, put on the gloves, conceal and not_ feel_.

* * *

Hans knew that it was the end.

He would never see her again; he would end his life either in a cold dungeon – _cold in her absence, ironically_ – or on the gallows.

But at the very least, they could part on neutral terms – almost as friends.

Wiping a clammy hand on the front of his shirt, Hans rubbed the bridge of his nose slowly. _I didn't mean to say all those things; where did they come from?_

He hadn't intended to share his thoughts with anyone. _Honestly_, he snorted, _monsters and ice? Philosophical babble_.

She had looked so vulnerable and laid bare, like that day on the fjord, when he had told her Anna was dead: Her face had gone blank, and then slowly, filled with soul-crushing despair.

That was what he remembered, before turning his attentions to the sword at his side, drawing it and preparing to strike.

Hans didn't regret a thing he'd done; it was one of the things he'd learned from his father, that a man never regretted his past actions but took responsibility for them; credits and mistakes alike.

But now, he did regret not being able to find out what a life with her might have been like.

* * *

His face was etched into everything she saw, even when she closed her eyes. She hated that his words echoed in her memory.

_"I couldn't let you _become_ a monster like me."_

_It was nonsense_. Elsa shook her head. _I'm not a monster. I'm never going to become a monster._

But that day, when she was attacked, her heartbeat hammering as the men circled her –

No. She would _not_. Not ever.

_Anna._

She only wanted to protect her sister, the last person left in the world whom she loved. And those men were threatening that, threatening to kill her and she would never see Anna again –

_You ran from her._

"Only because I thought Anna would be safer away from me," Elsa muttered. She needed Anna; needed her so badly that the thought of never seeing her again hurt –

_You're still afraid, and he knows._

"No, he doesn't. He doesn't know _anything_."

Alone, she could pretend she wasn't affected by the things he said; that the ice over her heart didn't exist, that _just for a moment_, his eyes were as warm as Anna's –

"No."

_You have feelings for him._

"_No_." _Conceal, don't feel_. She wrung the material of her dress between her slim hands.

She tried to conceal the despair she felt of never seeing this maddening, fascinating man ever again, which came _oh so close_ to the emptiness of _never seeing Anna again_. Guilt pooled in her stomach, and she bit her lip against its slow burn.

"I don't need anyone but Anna, especially not _him_," said Elsa in a deliberately steady voice. "He tried to kill us."

_"Believe me when I say everything had changed."_

If Elsa screwed up her eyes tight enough, she could expunge him from her memory, and convince herself she wasn't thinking the same thing.

* * *

Sieg came for him at first light. "Ready?"

Hans rose, the blanket pooling at his feet. "As much as I'll ever be."

* * *

Elsa's bedroom window had a fine view of the fjord and harbour. She watched the single ship in the dock, sailors loading supplies in the hold.

Sieg's burly form was unmistakable, as was the smaller man in his company; Hans was taken onboard.

She looked away before the ship set sail, and prepared herself for the day; tall, elegant, and pale, Arendelle's Queen left her chambers for her study, awaiting her advisors.


	8. Realization

**Author's Notes:** A _monster_ (haha) of a chapter this time round because_ plot_.

* * *

Hans set foot on the deck of the small clipper, and marveled how familiar it felt.

Being a small kingdom on the coast, the Southern Isles naturally had a rich maritime heritage; he, along with most of his brothers, had officer commissions in the royal navy, unlike the other European nobles who favoured cavalry regiments.

He was a privileged ship's lieutenant, being one of the king's sons, and spent most of his tour of duty aboard a gunship doing nothing in particular. It had taken imprisonment for him to actually reconnect with his sailors' heritage and do something useful.

The captain came from below to greet the disgraced prince, his boots clicking together smartly. "Your Highness," he said, bowing. "Captain Benedikt, at your service."

Hans smiled thinly and nodded his acknowledgement. "Will you be locking me in the hold for the duration of the voyage, Captain?"

The man's smile slipped a little. "N – no, Prince Hans. His Majesty specifically requested we escort you back home with all the privilege assigned to your rank."

"I see." He looked around. "None of my brothers are here?"

"They had important state matters to attend to; they send their apologies and hope to welcome you home as soon as possible."

Hans didn't find it surprising that none of his brothers had come with the ship to take him back to the Southern Isles. In fact, he was wondering what kind of homecoming they had in store for him.

"Very well."

The captain saluted smartly. "We will set sail soon, Your Highness."

Hans' gaze drifted back to the castle; the first rays of the sun were beginning to peek over the mountains, sending pale yellow rays over the roofs and walls. He pretended she was somewhere watching him.

"No hurry," he said softly, almost to himself.

Instructions were yelled, men scurried back and forth across the ship, and the anchor was hoisted up with a shuddering creak of chains. The vessel dipped and rocked in the waves, and began to move.

Chilly wind cut into Hans' face but he didn't move from his spot at the railing, watching Arendelle grow smaller and smaller until it was out of sight. Then only did he, back ramrod-straight and head high, turn away and walk towards the stern, where the captain was issuing his rapid-fire orders.

"Captain."

"My prince? It will be a long voyage home. Perhaps you would like to retire to your cabin?"

He smiled. "No, I came to report for duty."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I think I will work with the men – if that's acceptable to you."

"I – of course – but, Your Highness – "

He gestured to the rough, homespun clothing he wore. "I'm already dressed for it, so I might as well earn my keep, yes?" Hans strolled down the length of the ship, joining a group of astounded seamen in hauling the mainsail open, gripping the rope.

Captain Benedikt's jaw dropped. "Prince Hans, I – "

"I will take full responsibility for my actions, Captain." Hans waved him off. "For this voyage, please treat me as one of the men."

"Y – yes, Your Highness!" The man bowed, but deeper this time.

* * *

A few hours later, Hans was almost beginning to regret his decision; he was drenched in equal parts sweat and sea spray, his palms were tender to the touch, and every muscle he could think of ached. Hans swore as the ship bucked, forcing him to cling to the rigging and sending shooting pain up his fingers.

_God, I've missed the sea._

He could feel the eyes of the sailors on him as he worked alongside them, but they knew better than to question a prince of the Southern Isles; other men had died for less.

Hans knew that a prince did not perform menial labour like a common seaman, but he was not a prince. He was a criminal.

The waves were hardly choppy enough to be considered a squall, but Hans had trouble finding his sea-legs, nonetheless. He swore again when the deck shifted and forced him to take an involuntary step backwards.

"Look lively, there!" roared the captain over the rush of water. "We're coming to the ice passage; I want every man alert!"

The young prince leaned over the side of the deck; large chunks of ice that had sloughed off the icebergs drifted in the water. It took a skilled navigator and crew to maneuver in these conditions.

"Treacherous to sail at this time of year," commented Hans.

"Yes, my prince," said the helmsman, his eyes fixed ahead of him. "Arendelle is very far to the north, and the straits are usually clogged with ice by the winter solstice. It was a gamble to have sailed at all, but it seems we are lucky."

"Clogged? You mean the passage will be blocked?"

"Indeed. Arendelle is all but closed to ships in midwinter." He adjusted the wheel. "But the ice is unusually sparse this year. Perhaps it is delayed this year," he chuckled.

"I see," murmured Hans.

* * *

When he stepped on to the deck, he could feel the disapproving glares of the ministers waiting for him. "Your Highness, welcome home," they said, bowing a fraction less than what was usually accorded to a member of the royal family.

Hans let it slide, the smile on his face never wavering, inclining his head to them. "It's good to be home."

They gestured to a waiting carriage. "This way, my prince. Your brothers are waiting to see you."

"Wait, am I going to meet them like this?" he asked, holding out his arms. "Won't I be given time to freshen up?"

The man sniffed genteelly. "I'm afraid His Majesty instructed me to bring you to the audience chamber the instant you arrived home."

He shrugged. "Very well, then."

* * *

The castle of the Southern Isles was a magnificent affair; creamy marble floors and gilded furniture. Royal portraits of past kings and queens hung from the walls, much like in Arendelle's castle.

Gaudy and opulent as it was, Hans still felt of pang of familiarity at being home.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Hans," announced the page, and the wooden doors opened for him.

The king sat on the throne at the end of the hall, flanked by only one other young man. Hans drew a sharp breath.

"Welcome home, little brother."

"Eirik," said the prince in shock. "You're – what happened to Father?"

His eldest brother, a stocky man whose only common trait with Hans was their greenish-brown eyes, shook his head. "A fever. He died quickly and peacefully, fear not."

Hans closed his eyes briefly. "Why didn't you – "

Eirik made a quick flicking motion with his fingers, as though shooing a fly. "It was so sudden, Hans. There was no time to write to Arendelle and bring you home for the funeral and coronation…" he trailed off, his lip curling, and continued in a smoother tone, "and we had no idea to ascertain your loyalty to the House of Liljecrantz."

"… Wait, what? I am Father's son – "

Eirik dismissed his protest with a wave of his hand. "No one doubts the marriage of the Dowager Queen Hilde to our father. But I need to be absolutely certain of your _allegiance_, not your blood, Hans."

"I have given you no reason to doubt my loyalties," growled the younger man.

Haakon stepped forward, a small smile on his face. "Sent home in disgrace, after Queen Elsa discovered your clumsy plot. A good thing I warned her about you, yes?"

Hans surged to his feet; the guards scrambled to restrain him. "You told her, you bastard!"

"I merely alerted her to the fact her would-be murderer was up to his old tricks again," said Haakon, eyes glittering.

"She knows you had a hand in this."

"It matters not."

"Despite this second attempt on her life, she still spared you," broke in King Eirik. "Do you have any idea why?"

"No," admitted Hans, sagging suddenly. "She should have killed me."

"But she didn't. And that's all we needed to know."

"What would have happened if she had killed me, Eirik? Haakon? What then?"

Haakon didn't break eye contact for a moment. "Then we would have one less brother vying for a crown."

"Monster." Hans spat at Haakon's feet in disgust; the prince smirked and stepped back. The king eyed the wet lump dispassionately.

"I see your time in prison has taught you nothing."

"Nothing of interest to you, at least," he growled. His heart pounded in his chest; _they must not know –_

"On the contrary… Everything turned out as Haakon predicted." Eirik glanced at Haakon. The younger man dipped his head in silent acknowledgement. Hans watched them both closely, his stomach tightening in apprehension.

"We'd expected you to succeed, you know. It was really too easy. Alas, things didn't work out as we'd predicted – but better." Eirik flicked at an imaginary spot of dust on his sleeve. "Instead of killing you or – stupidly, I might add – shipping you home, she kept you as a pet."

"And when I tried to force her hand, still she didn't kill you," interjected Haakon. "Doesn't it make you wonder why?"

He looked away defiantly.

The older prince smiled mirthlessly. "She has feelings for you," he said, "despite everything you did. Either you must have more talent than we'd suspected, or she's just a stupid little b – "

"Shut. Up."

"I've touched a nerve, clearly," he remarked.

Eirik looked bored. "Get to the point, will you? I have better things to attend to." A flash of annoyance passed across Haakon's face briefly. "Yes, my king," he said, turning back to Hans.

"The Snow Queen clearly has a weakness – you." He clasped his hands behind his back. "And we intend to fully exploit that."

Hans chuckled. "I hate to break it to you, Haakon, but Queen Elsa is hardly going to surrender her throne if I were to waltz in and ask her nicely."

"I don't need to ask her nicely – not when I have the navy and army of the Southern Isles backing me up," replied the elder prince. "To be honest with you, Hans, that agreement I offered you? It was actually mine. _I _will be King of Arendelle, with King Eirik of the Southern Isles' full support."

"I don't see how I can help you with those grand delusions of yours."

"Not you, but your face."

"Wait, what?"

Haakon leaned forward, gripping Hans' chin and tugging it upwards. "Have you noticed how alike we are, little brother?"

A whine of panic started in Hans' ear. "You bastard – she knows your face, she's seen you a few times before – "

"She won't know for sure, since she sent little Hans back home to the Southern Isles; and here he is again, at the head of an army determined to destroy her."

"She will destroy you," snarled Hans.

"She will run like the coward she is."

Hans' eyes flashed, but he did nothing. Haakon smirked.

"I wonder," he said, whispering low into Hans' ear, "if I were to take her, would I find a woman's charms? Or just cold ice?"

Hans just stared back, venom in his eyes.

Haakon released him. "You must be tired from your journey," he said quietly. "Go and rest, and we will talk more tomorrow. Your old rooms have been kept for you; unfortunately, though you may find a prison cell more comforting, we have not prepared one for you. We have different ideas of hospitality from Arendelle's."

The youngest prince spun sharply on his heel and left, followed closely by the guards at a nod from the king.

Eirik rested his head against one hand. "Was there a need for that… _little show_, Haakon?"

"We need to force his hand again, my king."

"Into what?"

"Another mistake."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"Perfectly."

* * *

His room was exactly as he'd left it – swearing he'd never return – but Hans took no joy in it.

"Damn!" He pounded his fists against the solid wood of his writing desk. Haakon's words were poison, as always, but he struggled to accept what he was planning; his worries, however, were a little assuaged by the knowledge that Elsa would never accede to whatever they had in mind.

He knew very well why Haakon and Eirik had been so transparent about their machinations. Hans was sure that whether he was in the picture or not, she would be more than capable of holding her own against them; he knew how formidable an opponent she could be.

His legs felt weak and he slumped into a chair.

_I have to help her. But if I were to set foot in Arendelle again – _

If he couldn't reach her in time, he knew many people who would only be too happy to cut him down.

_I can't go back to Arendelle. _

They were trying to force him to return, Hans gathered that much. They were expecting him to escape from the Southern Isles and return to Arendelle, where she would either she would kill him, or she would make a horrible mistake to save him.

If she killed him, the Southern Isles could very easily declare war on Arendelle for killing one of their royal princes. They would sail to the tiny kingdom and destroy it; even if Elsa was more than a match for the invaders, he knew she would surrender to spare her people's lives.

_Stupid girl_, he smiled, _but in the best way possible._

If she didn't kill him – and he hoped she would not – she risked losing her people, and most importantly, Anna.

It was a calculated gamble that would end badly for Elsa no matter which course she picked – if he were to return.

But equally as dangerous was a choice to remain in the Southern Isles; even though his brothers' machinations hinged on his return to Arendelle, Hans knew they had other means to 'persuade' him to go.

Such as that empty threat Haakon had made earlier – which he could easily make reality.

_Perhaps if I flee – _

He dismissed the thought. The ship that had brought Hans back was unusually small, his arrival at the castle was hurried; he knew Haakon was more than capable of erasing his return home.

The Southern Isles could demand the return of their prince and Arendelle had no proof that he had been taken by a Southern Isles ship. They could declare war on the flimsiest of pretexts, and that was him.

Hans bit his lip.

He had played too deep into Haakon's hands, and he could see no way out to avoid the inevitable outcomes, especially when the new king was firmly behind the plot.

_Father…_

Even if the king had never spent time with him, he was the only person Hans felt something other than hatred for. His mother had cared little for the boys born of a political alliance, and his brothers only saw another rival for the throne. His father had, at least, treated him like he was worth knowing.

And now he was gone, and Hans hadn't even seen him one last time.

He had no love for Eirik, the eldest in his early forties. Eirik had spent decades playing politics, securing his succession to the throne. That was what worried him; if Eirik was backing Haakon, there were major gains at stake. He had inherited his father's love of conquest along with the crown, and it appeared that Arendelle and its queen was his target.

The kingdom itself was a poor prize for such high stakes, with only a decent economy and a reasonably strategic location. No, the crown jewel was its powerful Snow Queen, who accidentally brought an eternal winter in summer.

The benefits of harnessing such a weapon of war were easy for even Hans to imagine, and he was sure Eirik was eager to cement his legacy as King Eirik the Conqueror.

Hans drove all thoughts of Elsa from his mind with difficulty. _Focus_. _You can't help her like this_. He visualized all the possible actions he could take, and the paths they followed to their outcomes; they radiated from him like a spider in its web. As he watched, several paths vanished before his eyes.

_Haakon's covered most of the possibilities._

Running his hands through his hair, Hans' mind whirled, calculating and re-calculating his options.

The only option he had was to go back; to talk to Elsa – which would potentially lead to the worst outcome if he wasn't careful.

It was also the only option he wanted.

* * *

"Elsa?"

She gave a start. It was a male voice, but the only man who would use her name was –

Kristoff stood awkwardly in the doorway; dressed in snow-dusted clothes, he looked extremely out of place in the neat castle.

Elsa smiled, laying down her quill. "Hello, Kristoff."

"Uh, hi?" He opened the door wider, revealing the battered ledger he was carrying in his other hand. "I, uh – I just came back from making the deliveries. Do you want me to make the report? Or if you're busy, I could just come back another day, I don't mind, Sven and I will be hanging around for a while, maybe with Anna – um, if you don't mind, of course –"

" – Kristoff? It's fine," she said, trying her best not to laugh at his fumbling. "Come in."

He blushed crimson. "Um. Sorry."

"Don't be."

Yanking his hat off his head, he stuffed it into his sash and opened the ledger, flipping through until he got to the page he was looking for. "Ah, okay. So over the last month…"

Elsa's brow furrowed as she listened. It would be the winter solstice in two weeks, and it was already one of the coldest winters she had ever experienced. Privately, she worried if the eternal winter she had brought about had influenced this in some way.

_If anyone was hurt because of me…_

"Elsa?" Kristoff had stopped talking, his furrowed brow mirroring her own expression. "Is everything all right?"

She smiled – a little too quickly, perhaps. "Everything's fine. Sorry if I looked like I was spacing out," she explained, slipping out of the formal court speech.

He snapped the ledger shut and set it on her desk; the queen blinked. "Huh?"

"You can always read that later," he said, eyes crinkling into a smile, "and besides, I never liked giving reports. Too formal, and you know me, never one for formality…"

"Wait, what?"

Kristoff blushed a little. "I know it's not my place to say anything, but Anna's been worried about you lately." He came closer; despite the gentleness of his tone, Elsa could clearly see the nervousness in the stiff way he held himself. "Your mind's been elsewhere."

"I'm fine, just maybe a little stressed…"

He gave her a crooked smile. "Really? The way Anna goes on about it, it sounds like the end of the world."

She stifled her laughter behind her hand. "You know how she exaggerates."

"Too well."

They lapsed into silence, but it was markedly more comfortable than before; Elsa no longer felt as tense, and she could see he was less awkward.

"Did she ask you to come and talk to me?"

Kristoff blinked, looking completely taken aback. "N – no," he stammered, reaching for his hat and wringing it. "I – well, I had to give you the report anyway – so I thought I'd just, you know…" he trailed off uncertainly, looking everywhere but directly at her. "I mean, after you came back from Corona, we haven't really talked – not that we've talked plenty before anyway – and I was wondering how you're doing."

She recalled his worried expression and felt a warm affection blooming in her heart. "Thank you, Kristoff. I really mean it."

His crooked smile blossomed into a full grin. "No problem, Elsa."

Her eye fell on the ledger. "So… anything important in there I should know?"

"Nope. Ice being gathered and delivered, that's about it."

"Well, then…" Elsa pushed the ledger back into his hands, smiling shyly at him. "I guess the report can wait for something to actually happen."

He coloured. "I – uh – then, I should – "

She was blushing almost as much as he was, she was sure of it, as she got up from her chair and placed a hand on his hand. "You know, I remember Anna telling me about how much you like my ice. Maybe I could show you a few things?"

His face split into a huge grin. "I would be honoured."

Of course, Anna wasn't too happy to find them outside with Sven 'building snowmen' – as she put it – and what started out as a small demonstration in the courtyard became an all-out snowball fight.

* * *

Hans knew what he had to do; by the time he looked up from his desk, the sun had set and his room was in pitch-black darkness.

He fumbled for the candle, lighting it with great difficulty, and gathered his things.

As he slipped out the door, he hoped that she would forgive him.

* * *

The day had ended on a perfect note. Elsa felt happier, and Anna was less worried about her sister's melancholy moods.

Slowly, they settled into comfortable, daily patterns.

Sunlight was rare in Nordic winters; engrossed in her work, Elsa didn't even notice when Kai slipped in to light the lanterns and kindle the fire in the hearth. Apart from wood crackling, there was no other sound but the scratching of pen on paper.

She sighed and pushed away the parchment, feeling worn. "That's done…" sighed the queen, blinking the fatigue from her eyes.

It was much too quiet. Slowly, a smile spread across her face.

"Okay, Anna. You can come out now. I know you're there."

No answering giggle. No Anna tumbling out of the curtains.

"Anna? It's not funny." She set the pen down and tiptoed over to the bookshelf.

"Aha! Got you."

No Anna hiding behind the books.

A distant, familiar giggle rang through the air from the courtyard. Elsa peered out the window.

Outside, Anna was helping Kristoff load up his sleigh – or more accurately, she was haphazardly tossing things into the back while he patiently took them out and rearranged them in a more orderly fashion. All the while, she chattered nonstop to both Olaf and Kristoff.

A small pang of shock – and then she remembered; they were going on a trip into the mountains for a few days. They had come in to say goodbye earlier, but she'd been too busy with her work to pay attention, forgetting she wouldn't be seeing them at dinner later…

Elsa watched as they finished their packing and jumped into the front. Sven began trotting and they disappeared out the gates.

The young queen felt a pang of loneliness – something she hadn't felt in a while. Elsa had gotten too used to Anna's antics, Kristoff's solid presence, even Olaf's and Sven's companionship.

With practiced ease, she pushed her emotions to the back of her mind, and left for the library in search of a good book.

* * *

"I need a ship."

The other man, his face heavily muffled against the winter chill and the soldiers that patrolled the harbour, grunted.

"I don't have one."

Hans discreetly slid a pouch across the table; the man snatched it and weighed it in his hand.

"Perhaps I can arrange something, my prince."

"I need a fast ship out of here."

"Not a problem. Where are you headed? Corona? Maldonia?"

"Arendelle."

His companion had been drinking from his tankard of ale, and the name prompted a coughing fit. "What? Are you mad – no." He fished out the purse of coins from his inner pocket and tossed it back. "We're done here."

The prince said nothing, drawing out another pouch and dropping it to join the first.

The other man pulled down his scarf; even in the gloom, the jagged scar dividing his face into half was clearly visible. One eye was milky-white, the other fixed on the prince.

"No amount of money will induce me to help you, Prince Hans," hissed the man. "You and your accursed house."

"You owe me your brother's life," said Hans softly.

"A life that you ruined first."

"I…" Hans sighed. "I… am sorry I did not see through my brother's plot earlier, and I could not save the other men." He looked away. "It was all I could do to find Captain Benedikt before his killers did."

The man gave a harsh laugh. "Not quickly enough," he growled. "Benedikt and I are dead men already. We are no longer safe here, in the country our family served for generations."

"You can flee with me. Arendelle is a good place to live."

He rubbed his face wearily, scratching at his chin. "Arendelle is treacherous at this time of year – it was a miracle Benedikt could even bring you back so quickly and without incident. The ice floes are shifting with the tides, and the winds come swiftly; I've known ships to be frozen in solid ice and lost forever."

"I know. I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't desperate."

The man tugged up his scarf. "One of your brothers gave me this," he said conversationally, tapping the scar on his face. "I was a cabin boy on his ship. His dinner was cold by the time I brought it to his quarters. He was already blind drunk, and so when he saw me, he reached for his knife and – well. There you go."

Hans said nothing.

"And now he is king. The world works in mysterious ways." The man reached for his tankard, drained it in one gulp, and signalled the serving girl for more. "Long live His Majesty."

They were quiet for a long moment. The older man was halfway through his second drink when he spoke again.

"My brother spoke of you; the prince who worked alongside the men, who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty."

"I was forced to work as a sailor in Arendelle as an alternative to being locked up. I missed the sea, and grew to enjoy the work."

"You may be of that accursed house, but maybe you aren't as bad." He finished the second tankard and belched. "Give me a little extra for the crew, and I'll see what I can do."

"I need to be gone by tonight," hissed Hans, "before my brothers notice that I'm not in the castle."

"Then expedite the process, my prince. Surely your gold is more important than your life?"

He scowled deeply and dropped another purse. "Eirik should have carved up your other eye."

The man grinned and scooped all the bags with one sweep of his meaty hand. "Wait for me outside this place in two hours' time. A pleasure doing business with you, my prince."

The ship was even smaller than the one he had come home in, and the men looked like they had been kidnapped off the streets and taverns.

The man with the scarf stood at the helm, beckoning for Hans to board. "Benedikt is in the hold," he said, "but he's in no condition to captain the ship."

"Will you – "

" – I don't have a choice, now, do I?" He cackled, and spat. "Pray to every deity you know we don't get crushed in the ice; she's too small to cut through."

"I don't pray." His hands curled around the rough rail. "I know we will be safe."

"Your choice. We are a little short-handed, Highness, so if you would condescend to help…"

He grunted and shrugged off his heavy winter coat with the Southern Isles' crest. "Somehow I knew you would ask."

* * *

Elsa retired early that night. She wasn't really in the mood to work, so the young queen decided to take another book into her chambers. The young queen was certain she'd reread the entire library at this point.

They had been gone for nearly a week and were due back any day, but yet she couldn't believe how much she had missed them – her family. It had been easier when she had pushed them away.

She sat in front of the roaring fire with the book in her lap, but her mind was far away. She tried to focus on the words.

_And then the prince saw the lost princess, his one true love. Summoning the last of his strength, he spurred his horse and – _

She shook her head. _This is bad_, she thought, everything reminds me of him. _I'm absolutely hopeless. _Elsa shut the book with a snap, and let it slide to the floor.

Rather than the early days, when she had let thoughts of him occupy her mind, he had somehow insinuated himself into her life. It was bad, very bad.

But she couldn't help it – especially when she watched Kristoff and Anna together.

The tender way he treated her sister – like a precious, delicate ice sculpture – simultaneously warmed and froze Elsa's heart. She was overjoyed for Anna, that she had managed to find a man who loved her for herself, who was a perfect match for her in so many ways.

But it also meant that her sister was no longer hers alone.

Elsa bit her lip, her arm crossed protectively over her stomach, rubbing up and down her other arm. It was a stupid, childish thought which embarrassed her, being unable to be happy for her precious sister.

But she did long for human contact – of a specific sort.

It was therefore irritating that in her lowest, most despicable moments, she thought of him. Hans, with his smug smile and poisonous words. Hans, whose memory brought a flush to porcelain cheeks.

"Get a grip," she said aloud. "Conceal, don't feel."

The truth was she was a mixed-up mess of emotions; the rational part of her knew it was all wrong, that he was an unreformed criminal and manipulative would-be usurper, but…

There was another part, a tiny corner of her thawed heart, that beat faster for him.

There was a knock on the door. Elsa looked up, frowning. "Yes? Please come in."

The door creaked open, and Hans walked in.

She gasped.

His face was indistinct in the gloom, but she could see that he was smiling. "Your Majesty."

"Hans," said Elsa. "I – what are you doing here?"

He looked like he was about to make one of his smart retorts – she could see his lips move but no sound come out – but then shaking his head slowly, he walked forward towards her.

"I came to help you."

Every sympathetic thing she wanted to say deserted her. "_Help me_?" she spluttered, getting to her feet in one fluid movement. "You – you infuriating man! I show you mercy and send you back home, and you throw my judgement back into my face? What part of _never return_ do you not understand?"

"Elsa…" he began.

"To – _what_ – help me? What could you _possibly _– "

" – my father died," he interrupted her. "My oldest brother Eirik is king now."

That derailed her rant. "Oh," she said awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

"Eirik and Haakon are plotting to attack Arendelle. They used me as an excuse."

"What, are you expecting me to forgive you?"

Hans blinked. "Wait, what?"

Elsa folded her arms across her chest. "You heard me. Am I supposed to fall over myself in gratitude for your heroism, your bravery in coming here to _help_ me?"

He was spluttering incoherently, almost as badly as she had earlier. "Why, I – you insufferable woman! I certainly don't have any ulterior motives behind wanting to help you!"

"You – _you_ – !" Words failed her. Their breath came in wispy clouds in the room.

As though through some prearranged signal, they fell silent, glaring daggers at each other. Elsa's chest was heaving, filled with anger and some other foreign emotion –

Neither moved, until –

Hans strode forward, an undefinable expression in his eyes.

A shudder ran through her body; this was what she remembered from the fjord – powerless to move, rooted by her grief and guilt and despair, hearing the rasp of his sword being drawn, then his footsteps as he came close –

– and then he kissed her, and all thought fled her mind.

Elsa didn't react even as his hands cradled her face, holding her close as his warm, slightly roughened lips pressed against hers.

Breaking the kiss, he slowly pulled away – and her hands slipped around his neck.

"Elsa…" he breathed, his forehead touching hers. She wasn't looking at him, but at his shirt.

Very slowly, Elsa raised her head and her brilliant blue eyes met his. Hans had never seen so many emotions swirling in someone's gaze before. He opened his mouth to say something just as she leaned in to kiss him.

Her lips had been soft but cold at first, but they were warming rapidly under his. He kissed her with as much fervor he could muster, his hands cupping her cheek, fingers tangling in her hair, stroking her delicate skin –

Hans felt her own cold hands on his body too; but strangely enough heat blossomed under his skin where they touched. His tongue skimmed over her lips experimentally; they parted as she gasped in surprise.

Elsa hummed into the kiss, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer still.

She was warm. She was so warm in his arms, and he wanted more. He was cold, and he struggled to be with her, to luxuriate in her heat.

He turned his attention to the pale skin of her neck, his rough tongue caressing the outlines of her collar bone. Elsa made a soft sound that could have been anything – he wasn't thinking – and her hands seized his face, pulling it up to hers, kissing him with a fire he didn't know ice could possess.

"Elsa," he growled against her lips, and it sounded needy now, transparent with longing. "_Elsa_."

Her answer was a drawn-out moan. "Hans."

He wondered – for an instant – how her hair was hopelessly tangled in his fingers, her face flushed, lips swollen, eyes hazy with lust, and she was still _beautiful_.

Thus it was with great difficulty he managed to push her away.

Hurt shone in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," muttered Hans. "I want to – God knows I want to. But we can't."

The desire drained from her expression and she visibly straightened, tugging her collar up. "No – I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

He ran his hands through his mussed auburn hair.

" – why did you come back?" she suddenly asked in a small, broken voice.

"I – " he began, and then stopped. "I – had to."

"If it's because of your brothers – "

"Yes." There was no easy way to say it, especially in the light of what had transpired minutes before, but Hans struggled nevertheless. "I couldn't let them hurt you."

"Like you haven't already hurt me?" Despite the evenness of her tone, the words stung. He flinched.

"Elsa, I – "

"Forget it." She half-turned away from him as he was cursing his ineloquence. "I don't need to hear whatever you have to say."

He suddenly knew what he had to say. "Not even about us?"

Elsa's back stiffened.

"There is no _us_," she emphasized, voice cracking a little as she spoke. "Whatever happened was nothing… a temporary lapse of judgement on both our parts."

"Not on mine," Hans said softly.

She turned her head back to glance sideways at him.

"This – how I feel about you – is something I have been dealing with for a while now, and I don't understand it," he continued bluntly, "to the point that I've given up trying to and just accepted it. Elsa – I know there's been too much past between us, too much for you and I, but... _this_ just happened anyway."

Her eyes flickered, the regal mask slipping from her face. She looked her age, a vulnerable young woman playing dress-up, rather than the queen. Hans found it completely mesmerizing, that she was so many things in one.

_And _monster_ was not one of those things._

Elsa opened her mouth to speak.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," she admitted.

Hans breathed again.

"I don't know what it is, because it's not… it's not what I feel for Anna, or even Kristoff and Olaf and Sven..." she took a breath. "I just…" Elsa trailed off, her arms hugging herself.

"But you've felt it," he said, blushing slightly, "_something_ happened just now. Didn't you?"

"I…" She swallowed; he saw her throat work. "I don't –"

Pounding footsteps echoed through the corridor, and Elsa's door flew open.

"Elsa, we're back!" Flushed from the cold, Anna rushed into the room – and stopped dead. Her eyes took in every inch of the tableau; Hans and Elsa standing together, their hair mussed, lips reddened –

"Anna," started Elsa.

Hans' eyes widened.

"Elsa… how could you?" whispered the princess, her hand reaching for her mouth. "You and _him_ – "

Elsa had taken a few shaky steps forward, hands held out to her. "Anna, it's not – " she whispered, her voice trembling. "Anna, please…"

But she had fled, her footsteps thundering outside, and Kristoff's surprised voice calling for her.


End file.
